Vash & Wolf
by Agent Firefly
Summary: Nineteen-year-old Wolf, returning to Augusta University for his second year of studies, has never been great at making friends. So how is it that he's already on a first-name basis with those two R.A. girls, not to mention an unexpected roommate? (AU, Vash x Wolfwood, Meryl x Millie. My NaNoWriMo story for 2014!)
1. Welcome to Augusta University

The first thing Wolf noticed about the boy was the freckle. Just beneath the corner of his left eye, one solitary mark on an otherwise bright and unblemished face. The spot was so distinctive, yet Wolf felt as if he had seen it somewhere before, though he could not think of anyone else he'd met with a face like that. Two sky blue eyes under a shock of blonde hair that lanced out in almost every direction, with a single earring to match the single freckle. His cheeks had nearly turned the same color as his red jacket in the frosty morning air, and his breath made shivery clouds around him as he glanced up from the map in his hands to study the campus with a look of pure confusion.

"New here?" Wolf was surprised to hear his own voice blurt out the question. He wasn't typically inclined to initiate conversations.

Two blue eyes fixed on his, and Wolf felt a punch of embarrassment. _Pretty_ was the only word to describe that gaze, but Wolf wanted to kick himself at the mere thought. To make matters worse, the boy's face broke into a smile capable of demolishing a small village, and a sunny voice rang out, "Yeah! How'd you know?"

Wolf raised an eyebrow as nonchalantly as he could. "Lucky guess."

"I'm looking for the registration place, but I can't find it on this map." He flipped the paper to show Wolf. "Can you take me there? Sorry to bother you."

"No, that's fine." Wolf cleared his throat and looked down at the map. "Um, you've got it upside-down. And what are all these scribbles about? Looks like someone gave you a weird map."

"Oh, those are mine. I was trying to mark all the places I've been, so I wouldn't get lost. But I think I got lost anyway." A nebulous shrug. "I'm pretty bad with directions."

_No kidding, _Wolf thought as he eyed the page. "The administration building is right behind us."

The boy laughed one of the most annoying laughs Wolf had ever heard. It startled him so badly that the paper shook out of his hands and fluttered to the sidewalk. As he reached down to retrieve it, the boy slapped his back so hard that he dropped it again.

"You're awesome. Thanks. What's your name?"

His nerves barely had time to settle. "Nicholas Wolfwood," he replied, handing the map back.

The boy crumpled the paper and seized Wolf's hand instead. "Nice to meet you, Wolf! My name's Vash."

A gust of wind stirred up the leaves on the sidewalk and circled Wolf as the boy named Vash hurried toward the administration building with a final shout, "Thanks again!" and it wasn't until the door slammed shut that Wolf realized the boy had guessed his nickname without even being told. He stared at the door for a long time before the chill of the wind shook him alert and he turned toward the dormitories with his hands in his pockets and tried not to think about which one Vash had held. _What am I, twelve?_

The truth was that he hadn't felt like smiling for months, but for a moment just now it didn't seem so hard.

* * *

><p>Chapel Hall was swarming with second-year students, their cars parked around the perimeter and their families helping tote luggage through the large double doors. Wolf set his own few bags down on the curb and unpacked a cigarette as he watched the families walk back and forth. A few of the students he recognized from last year's classes, none of them more than acquaintances. Between his job on the weekdays and volunteer work on the weekends, Wolf hadn't had much time to make new friends. Not that he had ever been particularly good at it.<p>

By the time he finished his cigarette, a couple of the cars had pulled away, parents hugging their kids goodbye, and the double doors weren't swinging so frequently. Wolf took one last look at the towering stone walls and stained glass windows before he headed for the doors himself. He'd heard that some of the structures on Augusta's campus had been converted from an old monastery. It was obvious which building Chapel Hall had been. The fact that Wolf was going to be living here for the next two semesters made him more anxious than he cared to admit.

_He isn't here,_ Wolf reminded himself. _It's just a name. It's just a building. _But even as the sun climbed higher in the sky, the old church cast a shadow that chilled him to the bone.

Behind the tall wooden doors, a warmer scene greeted him. Under the vaulted ceiling of what had once been the atrium, groups of people stood around talking, catching up on each other's stories, locating old friends, swapping schedules. The noise of their voices was one big, watery echo in the enormous chamber. Wolf made his way to the desk at the back of the room and waved to the R.A. shuffling papers behind it.

"Just a minute!" The girl pushed a strand of shoulder-length brown hair behind her ear as she rummaged through a drawer. After a moment she tilted her head and smiled at Wolf. "I'm sorry, I literally put my pen down for one second and it's gone. Do you have a pen I could borrow?"

Wolf automatically searched his pockets, then stopped and reached over the desk. "Right under your nose," he said with a slight smile as he held the pen out to her.

"No way! I swear it wasn't there a second ago." The girl giggled, and Wolf thought the situation bore a strange resemblance to the one that had occurred earlier that morning. At least the girl's laughter wasn't obnoxious.

"I just need my room key," Wolf prompted. He gave her his name and showed her his ID, and she unlocked a cabinet on the wall.

"Let's see, Mr. Wolfwood. You're on the second floor, up the stairs and to the left. Room 206." She handed him the key. "That's a really nice room! You're lucky."

He felt like she might be exaggerating, but he managed another polite smile.

"If you need anything, Meryl and I will be here all year long. There are rules and phone numbers and stuff in the room. And…what am I forgetting? Oh, I never told you my name! I'm Millie. Millie Thompson."

"Thanks." Wolf nodded as he shouldered his luggage. "See you later, Millie."

An archway led out of the atrium into the dorms, and a creaky wooden staircase took Wolf up to a narrow hallway lined with numbered doors. He found Room 206 and turned the key in the lock.

There was more light than he expected. A tall window looked down on the lawn below, soft sunlight dampened by clouds filtering in from above. Blue curtains and painted blue walls lent a calm glow to the stained wooden furniture. Wolf set his bag of clothes beside the dresser and laid his school satchel on the desk. He hefted the last small suitcase onto the bed and sat down to open it.

The cross had been the last thing that he packed. He'd almost left it at the hostel, but something made him turn back and put it in the suitcase. Wolf couldn't think of a single reasonable explanation for keeping the thing. He hadn't attended Mass since he left his hometown two years ago, and although he was working toward a religious studies degree, he didn't practice any faith on a regular basis. Still, he'd hung the simple white cross over his bed in the hostel, and in the last dormitory, just as it had hung over his bed at home for as long as he could remember. It had never once saved him from his father's fist, never once answered his prayers for his mother to return, so why this inexplicable comfort? Why had the walls felt bare without it?

He left the suitcase open on the bed and headed for the door. He would go down to the refectory, find something to eat. Have another cigarette maybe. Save the unpacking for later. It could wait. There was another whole year ahead of him.

* * *

><p>The sky was dark when Wolf came back. One cigarette had turned to three or four, and his walk around the campus had turned to a walk downtown and back, then an hour or two in the library, a cup of coffee, a book that kept him distracted until he looked out the window to see the sunset crawling in and decided it was time to leave. He burrowed his hands in his pockets as the red sky deepened to purple, and he returned to Chapel Hall to find the atrium quiet and empty except for Millie at the desk with another girl beside her. They were speaking in low voices, their hands entwined. When they noticed Wolf, they released each other quickly.<p>

"Hi, Mr. Wolfwood!" Millie chirped, her face pink. The other girl, who had short dark hair and was about half the height of her friend, averted her eyes and made a show of straightening the papers on the desk.

Wolf, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward, gave her a noncommittal wave and hurried out of the room. He had to admit he was surprised, though he found nothing wrong with their innocent display of affection. But he couldn't think of a way to tell them not to worry about it without making himself sound intrusive, so he gave up and hoped Millie didn't think he was just being rude.

He climbed the stairs with tired legs and resolved to take a shower before attempting to unpack. The room was outfitted with some essential things, bed linens and usually towels, but when Wolf searched the closet and the dresser, he couldn't find any. _Great._ He heaved a sigh. There was nothing to do but go back downstairs and disrupt the two girls again. Wolf walked back to the atrium as slowly as he could. He coughed loudly as he approached the desk.

Millie and the short girl were preoccupied with eating dinner, Wolf was relieved to notice. Apparently off-duty, Milly had taken a seat near the TV and was spooning pudding out of a plastic cup, while her friend managed the desk. The dark-haired girl had a mug of tea and a plate of sweets in front of her, and she looked much less flustered.

"Can I help you?" she asked Wolf.

"Yeah, I just need a towel. There weren't any in the room."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "That's weird. We stocked all the rooms yesterday. Right, Millie?"

The tall girl looked up from her pudding and smiled when she saw Wolf. "Oh, it's you again! Meryl, this is Nicholas Wolfwood. I met him this morning."

"Meryl Strife." She shook his hand briefly, looking a bit annoyed that Millie hadn't answered her question.

"Um, you can call me Wolf if you want. I don't really use my full name anymore."

"Okay, then…Wolf. I'll bring you a new towel in a minute."

"Take your time." He thanked them both, feeling somehow more embarrassed than before, and left again.

He stopped when he reached the door to his room. It wasn't shut all the way. He was fairly certain he had closed it, but he hadn't bothered locking up. He nudged the door open slowly, peering inside with caution.

"What the—!" Wolf choked on his own words, the blood rushing from his face. There was somebody else in the room. Somebody dripping wet and wearing nothing but a…

_Oh. I guess that's where my towel went._

"Sorry," Wolf stammered, much too loudly. "Wrong room."

He spun around and slammed the door shut, sweat beading on his forehead. But when he turned to look at the number on the door, there was no mistaking it: Room 206. Not a sound came from the person inside. Wolf sat down on the stairs and tried to catch his breath. Was that who he thought it was?

Meryl appeared at the foot of the stairs with a folded towel in her arms. "Something wrong?"

"Yes, actually." Wolf hoped the shadowy stairwell was dark enough to conceal his unsettled expression. "I think Millie may have given me the wrong room key. There's someone else in there."

The girl's monotone voice hardly registered shock. "Oh, dear. Well, it wouldn't be the first time that's happened. Follow me, we'll double check the file."

Wolf shuffled after her, watched as she opened the same cabinet Millie had opened that morning, and unearthed his ID again.

"No, that's right. You're in 206 with Vash."

His stomach flopped. _So it was him._ "But I'm supposed to be in a single."

Meryl took out a file folder, her eyebrows scrunching up again. She put on a pair of reading glasses and skimmed over the pages. "It looks like we had a last minute change of room assignment. There was a transfer student whose name got overlooked, but all the rooms were full. Since 206 is the largest single, we converted it to a double and assigned him as your roommate." Her brown eyes flicked up to his. "But someone should have told you about that. Didn't you receive a letter?"

Wolf shook his head, dumbfounded.

"Strange. I'm going to have a word with Millie when she gets back from her break. In the meantime, please accept our apologies and settle in as best as you can."

She returned the file to the cabinet and began to lock it up. Then something occurred to Wolf. "Wait a minute. There has to be some kind of mistake. That room only has one bed."

Meryl stared at him, both of them confused now. Then a door opened and Millie reappeared.

"Millie!" Meryl's tone was furious. "This had better not be your fault."

Her green eyes widening in fear, Millie swiveled around to leave, but Meryl grabbed her sleeve and hauled her over to the desk. She opened the file and displayed it for Millie to see. "Were you aware that Room 206 was supposed to be converted to a double?"

Millie scanned the file and looked up happily at Wolf. "Yes! Did you meet Mr. Vash yet? He's really sweet, isn't he? I'm sure you two will be good friends."

Wolf didn't know how to react. Fortunately, Meryl did.

"Ow! Meryl, don't!" Millie swatted at the hand pinching her cheek until Meryl let go. "Why'd you do that?" the tall girl demanded with tears in her eyes.

"This young man was not informed about the fact that he had a new roommate. Furthermore, nobody bothered to move a second set of furniture into the room. Now, tell me this fiasco doesn't have Stun Gun Millie written all over it."

"I'm sorry! I had no idea!"

"You've got to quit spacing out all the time! Your job's already on the line. Don't you want to make it to graduation? At this rate, we'll never get a place of our own! Our careers will bottom out and we'll never start that business together and you'll be stuck in your mom's house forever with your eight billion cousins! Is that the life you want, Millie?"

"Hey!" Wolf raised both hands, startled by the outburst. "Hey, it's okay. It's really not that big of a deal. I won't tell anyone, so don't worry about…uh, your future being shattered, or anything."

Her temper receding, Meryl bowed low and said, "I'm so sorry about this. Please forgive her stupidity."

"I'm sorry, too, Mr. Wolfwood!" Millie cried. "You must really hate my guts. I wouldn't blame you. I'm such a forgetful loser. She doesn't call me Stun Gun Millie for nothing."

The tears were threatening to burst out of her eyes, so Wolf interrupted her. "I'm not mad at you. I promise. You've been very nice. Please don't worry about the furniture or anything tonight, I'll be fine. Just…is there a futon or something I could borrow?"

* * *

><p>When Wolf returned to Room 206, his arms loaded down with blankets and pillows and extra towels that the R.A. girls had bestowed on him, he hesitated before opening the door. Shifting the pile to one arm, he knocked a few times and waited.<p>

"Come in," a small voice said.

Wolf stepped inside and dropped the pile on the floor, trying not to look up. He could see a pair of socked feet out of the corner of his eye.

"Sorry I startled you," Vash said. "I thought you knew I was here."

"They never told me I had a roommate," Wolf said as he unfolded one of the fluffy comforters and spread it out on the floor.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. I didn't realize, that's all." _God. Can everyone stop apologizing to me tonight?_

He finally lifted his head to look at the other boy. Vash was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing pajamas and wrapped in his red hoodie. Looking at the long sleeves, Wolf remembered the bare skin and realized that he'd seen something that disturbed him a little. Vash's left arm had been traced all over with scars. At least, that's what he thought he saw. It had happened pretty fast.

Wolf didn't want to ask about it. From his downcast face, Vash looked even more embarrassed than he felt.

"Are you cold?" Wolf asked, breaking the silence. "We've got a space heater over here. I'll turn it on."

"Thanks." His voice lightened a bit.

As Wolf turned the dial on the heater, he noticed that his suitcase had been moved and the cross inside it was gone. He looked up to see it hanging in its place on the wall over the bed, as if he'd put it there himself. Had he?

"I hung it up," Vash said, noticing Wolf's bewilderment. He chanced a smile. "I wouldn't have guessed you were religious."

Wolf shrugged. "I'm not." Then he laughed. It wasn't forced. He couldn't stop. It was all just too ridiculous. Vash joined in, though he didn't seem sure what they were laughing about. When Wolf finally calmed down, he had to mop at his eyes with his sleeve.

"Nice to meet you again, unexpected roommate." Wolf shook Vash's hand the way Vash had shaken his earlier that day. "Millie thinks we'll be great friends."

Vash's true smile surfaced. It was the kind of smile that wasn't aware of itself. Pure and honest. Unafraid.

The unpacking process didn't feel so foreboding now. Neither of them had many clothes to worry about, so there was room for everything in the dresser. Wolf retrieved his toothbrush and soap and threw a towel over his shoulder. On his way out, he told Vash, "I'm going to sleep on the floor, so make yourself comfortable."

"But you were here first," Vash protested.

Wolf closed the door before he could argue further. It wasn't very late, but he felt exhausted. Vash must have been tired, too, because when Wolf came back from the bathroom down the hall, the lights were out in their room. He felt around with his toes for the comforter on the floor, and his foot bumped into something. Wolf fished in his pocket for his phone and pressed a button to light up the screen. In the faint blue beam of light, he could see Vash asleep on top of the comforter. Wolf sighed. He prodded the boy's shoulder with his foot again.

"I told you I was going to take the floor," he said. Vash didn't respond. His breathing was deep. Only a sliver of his face showed between his shoulder and the crook of his arm, but Wolf could see the single freckle underneath his left eye, the earring he hadn't bothered to take out. He didn't realize he was staring until the phone screen flickered off and the darkness pricked at his eyes. He turned the light back on and pulled a blanket from the pile beside the door. "You're gonna freeze, stupid," he muttered, draping the covers over Vash. He turned the heater up a notch and climbed into the bed. Moments ago, he could barely keep his eyes open, but now he felt wide awake. He turned his head toward the figure on the floor, and although he couldn't see a thing, he could feel the other boy's presence as strongly as the heavy blanket on his chest. It wasn't a bad feeling. But damned if he was going to get any sleep tonight.

* * *

><p>By midnight, Wolf had given up trying. It was too cold and he was too lazy to go outside, so he'd opened the window and leaned out smoking with his elbows on the windowsill. He heard Vash mumbling something in his sleep. Then he heard a choking gasp, and he whirled around to see Vash sitting up in a square of moonlight, shaking.<p>

"You okay?"

Vash searched around sightlessly for a minute, then froze when he saw Wolf at the window. "Could you…not do that, please?"

Wolf raised his eyebrows. "Whatever, princess." He crushed the stub on the sill and flicked it out into the night. The lack of sleep had put his temper on edge. _Lighten up, jerk,_ he scolded himself. "So who's Rem? Your girlfriend?"

"Rem?" Vash repeated quietly. Were those tears in his eyes?

"You kept saying that name in your sleep," Wolf said, his voice softening. He already regretted saying anything.

Vash looked down at his hands gripping the blanket. "Whatever you think it is, it's not," he said slowly, each word an effort. He sat still for a long time, and Wolf could tell he was trying not to cry. He wasn't very good at hiding it. _God, this kid is delicate._

Wolf closed the window and sat on the floor beside him. He felt like he should say something, but he didn't know what. Vash pulled his knees up to his chin and buried his face in his arms. Wolf reached out a hand to place it on his shoulder, then stopped himself. Touching people was never a good idea.

He stood up, and Vash grabbed his hand. Wolf's entire body tensed. He didn't know what to do. Vash wasn't saying anything, but he wasn't letting go, either. One by one Wolf's muscles relaxed until he felt the warmth in his veins and his pulse slowed down. The more he focused on keeping his hand absolutely still, the more he felt Vash's grip tighten. _Stay,_ a voice told him. _He wants you here._ Was it a voice he could trust, though? Had it ever been?

Vash released Wolf's hand and wiped his face on his sleeve, forcing out an unconvincing laugh. "Sorry. I must look pretty pathetic, huh? Don't go telling the R.A. girls about me, okay?"

It hurt Wolf to look at his smile, so he turned away. "Not a word," he promised.

Vash didn't have any more dreams that night. Wolf knew because he listened. But he must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he woke up the sun was out and Vash was gone.


	2. Bang!

_The only time I ever held a gun was on my graduation day. I remember everything about that moment: the smell of alcohol from the broken bottle on the floor, my father's cowering shape in the corner, the wad of cash in my pocket, the cool metal against my sweaty palms. Plenty of times he'd threatened me with that gun, his face a mask of power and rage, but I felt neither angry nor powerful. All I felt was scared out of my goddamn mind._

* * *

><p>Wolf hurried across the parking lot, straightening his tie and throwing on the lanyard that held his badge. He had woken up late and rushed to get to work, sacrificing his appearance out of the fear of getting another strike for tardiness. As he jogged up the steps to the door, he realized his shirt was inside-out. He had a vest on, but he doubted it would fool anyone. Taking off his bike helmet and wedging it under his arm, he swiped at his mop of black hair and hustled past the attendance office, flashing his badge at the woman behind the desk. He reached the classroom, panting and fighting the pain in his lungs, only to find that the teacher hadn't arrived yet.<p>

Fifteen third-grade faces gaped up at him.

"Mr. Wolf has his shirt on wrong again!"

"Yeah, and his shoes are untied!"

"Mr. Wolf, I'm eight years old and I know how to tie my shoes."

"Where's Ms. Amelia?"

Wolf stifled a cough, his breath catching up to him. "You tell me, Isabel! I'm the one who's supposed to be late all the time."

A few kids giggled. Wolf set his satchel beside the teacher's desk and noticed a slip of paper with Amelia's handwriting on it. _Mr. W.— I will be two hours late for school on Monday due to a dental appointment. Please see my planner for assigned classwork. —Ms. A._

"Looks like you guys are gonna be stuck with me for a while," Wolf announced. "Teacher's out getting her teeth straightened."

"I'm gonna tell Ms. Amelia you said that."

Wolf frowned. "Don't you know what sarcasm is, Richard? And I happen to recall that _both_ your shoes were untied last Wednesday."

Everyone laughed, and the remains of Wolf's anxiety evaporated. If there was one sound he wished he could carry around with him, it would be that one for sure.

He clapped his hands to get their attention. "Okay, let's do some work. Page twenty-eight in your math books."

Groans all around. "What?" Wolf replied. "If we get the worst part over with first, we can goof around until your teacher gets here."

"I hate math!"

"You let us color last time."

"Yeah, why're you making us work?"

"I thought you were fun, Mr. Wolf."

Wolf slumped against the whiteboard. "You guys are gonna make me lose my job, you know."

"We won't tell!"

"Give us the answers again!"

"I want ice cream!"

The classroom erupted into screams and laughter. Wolf stared up at the ceiling, unable to keep the smile off his face. _Dammit, I'm such a pushover. Amelia is going to kill me._

* * *

><p>He didn't have time to think about Vash until he got back to Chapel Hall that afternoon. Now that Wolf remembered how his roommate had disappeared that morning, he wondered if Vash was ever coming back. <em>He probably requested a room change, <em>Wolf thought. _I'm not the easiest person to get along with, anyway._ It sounded reasonable in his head, but it made him ache inside. He wandered around outside the building, reluctant to hear the news from Meryl or Millie. Then he saw a familiar shape around the corner.

"Hey, buddy." Wolf reached for the small black cat and stroked its fur. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Last year, he'd noticed the cat following him around between classes. He gave it scraps now and then, but it didn't seem particularly attached to him. He guessed that lots of other students fed the cat, too. Wolf called it Neko.

The cat purred and rubbed its face against his hand. He held the door open to see if it would follow him inside, but Neko trotted off down the sidewalk, other business to attend to. Wolf felt the emptiness creep in again.

Someone else was talking to the R.A. girl at the desk, so Wolf passed them without a word. When he got to the room, he almost didn't want to look inside, but he gritted his teeth and turned the key.

"Wolf! You're back."

All the pressure inside him collapsed. "So are you."

Vash had a laptop open on the desk, one earphone in. His genuine smile had returned. "Man, you must have a lot of classes. I haven't seen you all day."

Wolf loosened his tie and dropped his satchel beside the desk. "Actually, I just got back from work. Most of my classes are in the evening."

"You have a job?" Vash looked amazed.

"It's only a part-time thing. I'm a teacher's aide."

"Wow." Vash rocked back in the chair. "No wonder you look so tired all the time."

Wolf didn't respond. He wanted to ask where Vash had gone that morning, but he figured it was none of his business.

"Your shirt's inside-out," Vash remarked.

"So I've been told."

He waited until Vash had turned back to the computer before he started to change clothes. Wolf was used to living with other people, he'd spent most of his childhood cramped in boarding school dormitories, and stayed in a hostel over the last summer break. But something about this situation felt different.

"Doing anything before class?" Vash asked.

Wolf dug an old T-shirt and a pair of jeans out of the dresser. "Probably going to work on my bike."

"You drive a _motorcycle?_"

"Um, kind of. I mean, it's still a work in progress."

"Can I see it?" Vash leaped up so fast that the earphone ripped out of his ear.

Wolf put the shirt on quickly. "I don't know…"

"Come on, I don't even have a car! Not that I could drive one. I wreck everything I touch."

"Then you'd better not touch my bike."

"I won't! I promise!"

Vash hid his hands in his pockets to demonstrate. Wolf watched him curiously, then said, "Fine."

They walked downstairs to the atrium, Vash pestering Wolf with questions, until Millie waved them over to the desk. "Mr. Wolfwood! Mr. Vash!"

"Millie!" Vash already seemed to be on good terms with her. He gave her a high five and laughed that annoying laugh of his. "Where's Meryl? Wanna go see Wolf's bike?"

Wolf elbowed him, but Millie just shrugged and laughed. "I'm on duty until six. But we're both off tomorrow night, so we're going to a party. You guys should come!"

"Deal!" Vash agreed.

"Maybe," Wolf amended.

"I hope so! It's going to be really fun. Meryl's the best shot in town!"

As they walked toward the door, Wolf tried to decipher what her last statement could have possibly meant, but he reached no conclusion. Vash didn't appear to be concerned.

"Millie's awesome, isn't she? We have an art class together!"

"She's an art student, then?" Wolf asked.

"No, I think she's in the business school. Wants to do construction or something. We're both just taking the class for fun."

They had crossed the parking lot, but there was no sign of a motorcycle. "Where's your bike?" Vash asked.

"I don't like to leave it out in the open," Wolf said. "I found a good hiding place last year. It's sort of like my garage."

He led Vash over the lawn toward a cluster of smaller dormitories, then cut through a courtyard between the buildings. Behind one of the freshman dorms, partially hidden by a row of overgrown hedges, there was a supply shed that looked like it hadn't been used in years. The front door was padlocked, but Wolf pushed through the shrubs and revealed a small door hanging open. He paused before taking Vash inside.

"You can't tell anyone about this, okay? It took me a long time to save up for the parts. I don't want it to get stolen."

Vash raised his right hand solemnly. "My lips are sealed."

Wolf reached inside the door and flipped a switch on the wall. A single lightbulb flickered to life. Vash peered over Wolf's shoulder.

Silence. Then, with an edge of disbelief, "_That's_ your bike?"

"Yeah. What?"

"That's not a motorcycle."

"I told you, it's a work in progress."

"It's a bicycle."

"No, it's not."

"It's a bicycle with a lawn mower engine attached."

"Shut up, all right? You have no clue how long this took me to build."

"Does it even run?"

"Look, I didn't bring you out here so you could insult her."

"Are you sure it's a she? I've seen farm implements prettier than that thing."

Wolf grabbed his shoulders and pushed him into the hedge. Vash started to laugh. "Wait, did you give her a name? Are you taking her to Millie's party?"

He had to duck to avoid Wolf's swinging fists. "Okay, okay!" Vash yelled. "I'm sorry!"

"You're gonna be sorrier in about three seconds!" Wolf roared, but Vash was too quick for him. He snaked out of the hedge and sprinted toward the courtyard with Wolf on his heels. Before long, Vash was yards away and Wolf was bent over with his hands on his knees, coughing up a lung. He finally slumped down in the grass, staring up at the bright blue sky. He couldn't help laughing. No one had bothered him this much in years. And he had to admit, it was fun.

* * *

><p>Wolf's first class of the semester was an Introduction to Religious Ethics course. He had gotten there early, along with a few other students, and he was half-listening to their scattered conversations when he heard someone mention Vash's name.<p>

"You mean Vash the Stampede?" another person said. "My brother used to go to school with that guy. He said he got kicked out for, like, smashing through a window or something."

"I heard he got into a fight and put all these guys in the hospital."

"Yeah, they called him the human hurricane. Remember all those disasters in the news? They all happened at schools he went to."

"Didn't he transfer from U.J.?"

"There was that big fire there last year."

The discussion turned to the July incident, and Wolf's attention wandered. They had to be talking about someone else. The Vash he'd met yesterday was about as dangerous as a goldfish. But then he recalled the scars he'd seen on Vash's arm. The nightmare, the empty smile. Where did he come from? What had happened to him, to cause that kind of pain?

_"Whatever you think it is, it's not."_ Those were the words Vash had said. Whatever those other people had heard, they were probably wrong, too.

After the professor arrived, after the lecture was over, the questions still lurked in Wolf's mind. He wouldn't learn the answers anytime soon. Vash was gone when he returned to their room, and Wolf was too tired from the sleepless night before to wait for him to show. He sprawled on the floor with his arms behind his head and fell asleep with the light on.

* * *

><p>He awoke to the sound of snoring. A pale shaft of sunlight seeped through the curtains and stung his eyes. His back was stiff and he had a knot in his neck. Groaning, he tilted his head to ease the soreness.<p>

Vash was sleeping beside him.

Wolf blinked a few times. He glanced up at the empty bed, then back down to the snoring boy next to him.

"Hey." Wolf's voice felt raw. When he received no reply, he shook Vash's shoulder.

Nothing.

He noticed with increasing exasperation that Vash had stolen the blanket from him. The snoring grew louder.

Wolf grabbed the corner of the blanket and yanked it back, rolling Vash off of the comforter. He woke with a start.

"What the hell are you doing down here?" Wolf demanded.

Vash curled up like a dying spider. "Not so loud," he whimpered, covering his head with his arms.

_So that's it. _"Hungover already? It's not even the third day—" Wolf stopped. The sleeve of Vash's shirt had slipped back, uncovering a fresh set of scars on his left arm.

Wolf felt a cold wave of some emotion he could not name. Fear? Sadness? Anger? It all blended together. Should he say something? Or pretend he hadn't noticed?

In the end, he went with his second instinct. "Almost ten o'clock," he said, squinting at his phone. "Good thing it's my day off."

"Mine, too," Vash mumbled. As far as Wolf could tell, every day was Vash's day off.

He went about his morning routine more noisily than usual, until Vash sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Where are you going?"

Wolf finished tying his shoes and picked up his satchel. "The library. Gonna get a cup of coffee."

"They have coffee in the library?" Vash was astounded. "Wait a minute, I'll come with you."

He didn't have to wait very long. Vash had apparently slept in his clothes from the night before, and his pale messy hair was a permanent bedhead, anyway. Wolf noticed that he had pulled his sleeve back down, but there were small dark pinpricks where the blood had soaked through. On their way downstairs, he failed to think of a way to mention the stains.

Meryl was on duty at the R.A. desk. She gave them a succinct nod, businesslike as usual. _At least she's not a morning person,_ Wolf thought. _That's one thing we have in common._

Vash wasn't his conversational self that morning, either. Their walk to the library was peaceful, and it wasn't until they'd stood in line at the coffee shop for several minutes that Vash spoke up in surprise.

"Wolf! You never told me they have _doughnuts_ here!"

He had the look of a bear in a butcher shop. Wolf stared at him blankly. "I wasn't aware I was withholding vital information."

Vash didn't hear him. He was too busy bartering with the barista. "A bag of doughnuts, please!"

"How many?"

"Thirty dollars' worth!"

Wolf was too awestruck to speak to him until he'd had a few sips of coffee. He watched Vash across the table they shared, the shaggy-haired boy scarfing down doughnuts and singing their praises with way too much enthusiasm. Wolf tried to piece together the rumors he'd heard last night with the person sitting in front of him, and he felt more clueless than ever.

"So, uh…Vash. Meryl told me you were a transfer student."

"Yeah, University of July," Vash replied. Which, with a mouthful of doughnuts, sounded more like, "Yunivery ajure I."

_Well, that one checks out._ "What are you studying?"

A shrug, then he finally swallowed. "Nothing in particular. What about you?"

"Religion."

Vash offered Wolf a doughnut, but Wolf shook his head, so he shoved it into his mouth. "I thaw you wern relijurf."

"I'm not. I mean, I guess I'm still figuring that out. But I don't want to go into ministry work."

"War you wanna do?"

Wolf took another sip of coffee. "I don't know for sure. I know that I want to work with kids. You know, kids who've had it rough. I'm doing my practicum as a mentor at this church downtown, and that's going well. If I could end up doing something like that every day, I'd be happy."

Vash had finished eating, and Wolf suddenly felt embarrassed. Somehow the conversation had gotten turned around on him, and he'd bared more of his soul than he'd intended. But Vash seemed truly interested.

"That's really cool," he said quietly, sugar still clinging to his lips. "You have so much of your life planned out already. I can't imagine working that hard."

Wolf thought this was a bit of an overstatement. He was just doing what he could to get by. Ever since he left his hometown, he'd worked constantly to save money and put himself through college. He'd been lucky to get the job at Augusta Elementary. Not very many people had the opportunity to get paid for doing what they loved.

To be honest, he wanted to know how Vash managed to coast along with neither a job nor any career aspirations and still be able to afford his weight in doughnuts, but Wolf thought it might be rude to ask.

"How long were you at U.J.?" he asked instead.

"About a year, I guess. Before that I was in May City for a few semesters, and before that I went to Octovern State College. Or was it December?"

"Wait a minute. How long have you been in college?"

Vash counted on his fingers. "Four, five, six…I've lost count! Let's see, I'm twenty-four, so that means—"

"Twenty-four?" Wolf howled. "You're kidding, right?"

Vash smiled innocently, his fingers still splayed. "Why? How old are you?"

Wolf couldn't believe it. No way was this freeloading, doughnut-eating, party-going pretty boy _five years older than he was._

"I'm…" Wolf started, but couldn't finish.

"Twenty-one? Twenty-two? Don't tell me, I'm good at this."

"Nine…"

"Twenty-_nine?_ Wow, I thought you seemed mature, but I wouldn't have guessed—"

"_Nineteen._"

Even over the roar of the cappuccino machine, Wolf swore he heard an echo. His face felt twenty degrees too hot. When he dared to look up at Vash, it rose another ten.

"What are you smiling about?" Wolf growled.

"You…are…adorable!" Vash reached over to ruffle his hair, and Wolf wriggled away, grimacing. "You've got this whole stoic tough guy attitude, and you're battling life's greatest quandaries and all, but underneath you're just a little teenager!"

"Shut up! We're practically the same age!"

"And you blush when you get mad! That's so cute!"

"I'm gonna break your goddamn nose!"

"Excuse me," the barista interrupted. "Please take your bizarre conversation outside. People are trying to study in here."

* * *

><p>Vash went out after they got back to the dorm, so Wolf spent most of the day in silence, getting a head start on his ethics homework. When he opened the window to smoke a cigarette, Neko the cat sprang up on the sill.<p>

"How'd you get up here?" Wolf leaned out to view the two-story drop. The cat pushed its face against his chin, then hopped onto his lap and curled up for a nap. Wolf pet the cat absently while he smoked, and he was about to doze off, too, when there was a knock on the door. Neko leaped away and hid under the bed. Wolf put out his cigarette and got up to see who was there.

A guy with blue hair was standing at the door. His dark gray eyes cut into Wolf like steel. But when he spoke, his voice sounded bored, disinterested. "Is Vash here?"

Wolf shook his head. "Who are you?"

"I have a message for Vash, but I'd rather give it to him in person. Do you know when he will return?"

"I think you have the wrong room." Wolf wasn't sure why he lied. All he knew was that he didn't trust this person, and he didn't want Vash anywhere near him.

Those gray eyes didn't seem to trust Wolf, either. The last thing the guy said before Wolf closed the door was, "I'll be back again."

Then he was gone. Wolf sank down to the floor as the cat crawled out from under the bed.

"You had the right idea, Neko. Next time that creep comes around, I'm hiding under there with you."

He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that the encounter had left behind. As the day wore on, Wolf found it harder and harder to separate the facts he knew about Vash from the questions that continued to outnumber them.

* * *

><p>Wolf returned from class that night to find Vash, Meryl, and Millie waiting for him in the atrium. He had forgotten about the party that Millie had invited them to. In fact, parties were among Wolf's least favorite events to attend, but he could hardly say no to the three smiling faces before him.<p>

"Millie's got the keg and I've got the whiskey!" Vash shouted. "Put your party hat on and let's go!"

Meryl's station wagon was parked outside. It was a particularly ugly vehicle, faded blue with imitation wood paneling. Meryl had to try a few times to get it started, the engine coughing as it turned over. Wolf noticed with aggravation that Vash, who'd been so quick to ridicule his bike, had nothing to say about Meryl's dumpster of a car.

The next few minutes were a blur. Millie and Vash talked excitedly about some horror movie they'd both seen, Meryl teased Millie about how she'd cried during the scary parts, and Millie retaliated by describing how Meryl hadn't let go of her hand throughout the entire movie. Wolf had nothing to add to the conversation, but he felt comfortable with everyone talking around him, with Vash sitting so close to him in the backseat of the car. He noticed when Millie laid her head on Meryl's shoulder, and Meryl took one hand off the wheel to loop her arm in Millie's. Maybe it was simply because they weren't on duty that they felt they could be closer, but Wolf hoped it had something to do with how they saw him, too. There were so few people he'd met that were like him, like who he wanted to be. From the moment he'd seen Meryl and Millie together in the atrium on that first day, he'd wanted to tell them how much hope they'd given him. How he wished he had their bravery.

All four of them stuck together once they got to the house, which made the noise and the crowds and the drinking a lot easier for Wolf to bear. He had a couple of beers, but mostly he sat around watching Meryl and Vash, who were engaged in some kind of drinking contest that involved arm wrestling while taking shots of whiskey.

"No one's ever beaten Derringer Meryl," Millie boasted to Wolf. "She may be small, but she packs a punch."

They were on their fifth or sixth shot, and Wolf could see Vash's arm shaking. Millie refilled the shot glasses in their spare hands, then shouted, "Bang!"

Meryl and Vash threw back the whiskey and slammed their empty glasses down at the same time. For a moment, Meryl had the advantage, but Vash's wrist snapped up again and Meryl began to sweat.

"Towel!" Meryl shouted, and Millie came to her rescue with a dishrag.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Vash yelled. His concentration broken, Meryl saw her chance and forced his arm down a good six inches.

"Bang!"

Vash struggled to hold his arm up while taking the shot. Meryl had a smug grin on her face.

"Shoot him dead, Meryl!" Millie cheered.

Even Wolf was getting into it now. "Are you gonna lose to that little girl, Vash?"

"Bang!"

Vash dropped his glass as soon as he swallowed. His face nearly turned purple. Then Meryl slammed his arm against the table, and he slid out of his chair and collapsed on the floor.

"I win!" Meryl pumped her fist in the air and took a triumphant swig from the bottle of whiskey.

"Didn't I tell you she's the best shot in town?" Millie grabbed the bottle from Meryl and took a long drink, which made her lose her balance.

"Easy, Stun Gun." Meryl smiled, steadying Millie in her arms. Millie leaned into her and kissed her on the lips. Meryl went slack for a moment, weaving her hand through Millie's hair, but then she sat up and pushed her back gently. "Now, cut that out. It's not fair to the loser."

"Yeah, what about me?" Vash lamented drunkenly from the floor.

"You've got Mr. Wolfwood," Millie said as she went for the bottle again. "Don't you think they'd make a cute couple, Meryl?"

Meryl blushed deeply, and Wolf could only hope his face wasn't as red as hers. He didn't dare look at Vash.

But Vash was laughing. "I'll show you, cheater! I can out-romance you any day!" And suddenly Vash had his arms around Wolf and he was kissing him so hard he almost knocked his chair over. And Wolf didn't have time to think about how his breath burned in his mouth or how his face felt like he'd shaved or how he could see the freckle beneath his closed eyelid because Vash let him go and said "Bet you wish you were the loser now, Meryl!" and Millie laughed and the music was loud and God he needed to get out of here, he needed a cigarette, and Vash was drunk and that wasn't a kiss, it was a joke. It was only a joke.

He made his escape while they were pouring another round of drinks, and retreated to the front porch to smoke. It was a cold, cloudless night, and the sting of the wind brought him back to reality. The warmth he'd felt in the car on the way there had disappeared. This wasn't a place for him. Wolf exhaled a plume of smoke and watched it dissolve under the stars.

Vash came looking for him later. He put his hand on Wolf's shoulder and said, "We should do that again sometime."

It could have meant anything. And so, Wolf thought, he had no choice but to believe that it meant nothing at all.


	3. Empty Smile

_Rem used to say that you had to be brave if you wanted to be yourself. Depending on where they are or who they're with, people wear different masks all the time. When you take off your mask and reveal your true face, you risk losing everything. Admiration, approval, desire, trust, love. But you stand to gain it all, tenfold. That is understanding. That is worth the risk, she told us._

_ So she took off her mask, and she lost everything._

_ Since then, I've never been brave enough to try._

* * *

><p>Vash had a headache a mile wide. He stared at the fan on the ceiling for a long time, trying to discern whether the blades were spinning or not spinning. Not spinning, he decided, though he wasn't positive. He would check again later. For now, the more pressing issue was the series of sharp, needlelike pains accosting his right leg.<p>

He raised his head with some difficulty to see a small black cat kneading his thigh and purring.

"Gah!" Vash shot upright, shaking his leg to rid himself of the unwelcome intruder. The cat gave him a swipe on the nose and bounded away, hissing. _How did that thing get in here?_ Vash wondered, rubbing his nose. As he lowered his arm, he noticed a red scab on his wrist that hadn't been there yesterday. He must have been scratching the wounds open in his sleep again.

Vash pulled his sleeve down, self-conscious, but Wolf was nowhere to be seen. He got up and flicked on his computer screen. Eight-thirty. Wolf was probably at work. Vash yawned and stretched. He needed to stop sleeping in so late.

Something on the screen made him pause mid-stretch. There was a document open on the desktop. Blank except for one word.

_KNIVES._

His face went cold. No. This was too soon. He hadn't been here a week yet. How…

Vash curled his hands into fists. There was no time. Find them. Keep them safe.

The first thing he wanted to do was find Wolf, but he had to put the thought out of his mind. Wolf was off-campus, far away. He wouldn't be the target. Someone else was in danger.

Throwing on the nearest set of clothes from the pile on the floor, Vash raced down the hall and descended the stairs to the atrium in such a rush that he tripped and stumbled down the last few steps.

"Are you okay, Mr. Vash?" Millie called out as he dashed through the atrium.

He flashed her a carefree smile. "Running late for class! Be safe today, Millie!" _Please, be safe._

Out the door, across the lawn, crisscrossing sidewalks and dodging the groups of kids heading to class, Vash ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He ran until Chapel Hall was out of sight and the sidewalk veered off through the trees and the shadow of the science building loomed over him and he saw a figure walking down the steps in his direction…

"Professor Luida!"

The tall, thin woman looked up from the tablet in the crook of her arm and peered through her narrow glasses at the person sprinting toward her.

"Vash?" She raised her chin as he slid to a halt. "I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow."

It took Vash a moment to catch his breath enough to speak. "Is…everyone…all right?"

"Yes, of course." Her tone grew serious. "Do we have a reason to be concerned?"

Vash glanced around them at the buildings, the sidewalks, the empty trees. "I received…something. Could have been a warning, could have been a threat. I'm not sure. But someone's definitely watching."

The professor nodded. "I'll notify our security network. In the meantime, keep in contact. No phone calls, no messages—only in person. You know where to find me."

"Got it."

"And, Vash?"

He lifted his head.

"Take care of yourself. I know you're trying to look after all of us, and that's noble, but when worst comes to worst, remember what's important. You have always come first. You and Nigh, both. Without you, we'd have nothing."

Vash tried to believe her, but his heart was unconvinced. "Thank you, Luida," he said, and though his smile was bright enough to pierce the clouds, there were oceans of pain behind it.

_If you only knew,_ he thought as he watched her walk away. _We are not the ones to thank. Without her, you'd have nothing._

* * *

><p>He had hardly taken three steps back toward the dorm when his phone buzzed in his pocket. The caller ID read <em>Unknown, <em>the digits of the phone number replaced by empty squares. Vash answered without speaking.

"Did you get my message?" a voice said.

Vash hesitated. "You're not Knives."

Laughter. "Of course not. I'm merely a friend. Or didn't your roommate tell you?"

_Wolf. _An icy fist closed up his throat.

"Sorry, I must have touched a nerve." The voice was almost gleeful. "Don't worry, he didn't seem much interested in me. Besides, I'm here on business."

"What kind of business?"

"The information gathering kind. You've helped immensely, by the way. I should say thanks. You led us right to her."

Vash went rigid. "Who is this? _Where are you?_" He spun around, searching the trees. "Answer me!"

No reply. The call was ended. Vash stood sweating, shivering. His urge to run and find the professor again was countered by the fear that he was being watched. _Remember what's important,_ she'd said. Vash slowed his breathing, forced himself calm.

_Luida, I hope you know what you're doing._

He took one step, then another. That was how, eventually, he made it back to Chapel Hall.

* * *

><p>Wolf returned from work around three in the afternoon. Vash hugged him as soon as he came in the door.<p>

"Um…" Wolf's shoulders tensed. "What…"

Vash realized what he was doing and thumped Wolf on the back several times with his fist, laughing dismissively. "Good to see you! How're you doing?"

The last thump made Wolf stagger forward, coughing. "Fine," he wheezed. "The hell's the matter with you?"

"Nothing! I'm great!" The more nervous he became, the louder he laughed.

Wolf took a step back, examining him. "You're wearing my sweater," he said.

"Am I?" Vash looked down at the clothes he'd thrown on that morning. "No wonder the sleeves are too short."

In one swift motion, Wolf grabbed the hem of the sweater and pulled it over Vash's head. "Give it back, then," he started to grumble, but stopped when he saw Vash's arm. "Hey," he said, his voice softer. "What happened?"

Vash felt a stab of guilt. The sleeve of his undershirt was marked with dried bloodstains. He tried to hide it, but Wolf reached for his wrist and pushed up his sleeve.

The pain in Wolf's eyes made him feel like the worst person in the world. He couldn't stand to look at Wolf's face, or his own arm, so he turned his head away. The grip on his wrist grew tighter, then slowly loosened.

Wolf said, "You got any bandages? Antiseptic?"

It wasn't the response he expected. Vash nodded, cautiously.

"You've done this before, right?" Wolf watched as Vash unpacked a small box from his backpack. "You should know better than to let those get infected. Come on."

Vash followed Wolf to the bathroom down the hall and obediently put his arm under the faucet. Wolf leaned against the door with his arms folded.

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice," Vash admitted as he rinsed the old blood from his wrist. The warm water stung on the newer scabs.

"I noticed the first day," Wolf told him.

Vash looked up in surprise. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Wolf shrugged, his eyes sliding away. "I didn't think you'd want to talk about it."

Turning off the faucet, Vash paused before he picked up the bottle of antiseptic and took off the cap. "You were right," he said.

Wolf was silent as Vash finished cleaning the wounds and unrolled a length of fabric bandage. He struggled with the tape for a moment before Wolf said, "Let me get that."

"Thanks," Vash mumbled, feeling the slight pressure of Wolf's hands as he wound the bandage snug and taped it in place. When he'd finished, Vash clung to Wolf's sleeve. Neither of them said anything.

He wanted to hold on longer, but he thought he was being weird enough already, so he let go.

Wolf left for class that evening without another word spoken between them. Vash sat on the bed for a long time staring at the new, clean bandage, Professor Luida's voice repeating itself in his head. _Take care of yourself._ He thought of Wolf's face again, the hurt in his eyes, and he slouched over with his head in his arms.

Why did he have to care so much?

He fell asleep sometime later, thinking about Wolf.

* * *

><p>The house was on fire.<p>

Vash blinked his eyes. He was alone in the room, in the dark. The smell of smoke hung in the air. An orange glow lit the doorframe.

"Nigh?" Vash called. "Where are you?"

He climbed down from the bed. He was so small.

"Mom? Dad?"

The crackle of flames from beyond the room. He reached for the doorknob, and the heat seared his hand. He screamed.

"Help! Nigh! Someone!"

Tears spilled out of his eyes, down his cheeks. The fire roared, the flames curling around the bottom of the door. He ran for the window and struggled to push it open.

"Please! Someone help me!"

A voice cried faintly over the roar. "Vash!"

His heart stopped beating. "Rem?" he whispered.

"Nigh! Vash! Can you hear me?" It was coming from downstairs. Vash stared at the door, the frame around it buckling and groaning in the heat. Then he remembered.

"Rem! Get out! Get out of the house!"

The door burst open in a blinding explosion, smoky embers clouding the air. Vash covered his burning face, coughing.

A scream pierced the thick air, pierced his entire being.

"Rem!" he shouted, sobbing. "_Rem! Rem!_ _Rem—_"

* * *

><p>"No!" Vash cried, jolting awake. The smell of smoke hung in the air. He was in the dark, alone…<p>

No, not alone. Wolf was at the window, a cigarette burning between his lips.

"You said you wouldn't do that in here," Vash muttered shakily. His heart was still pounding, the tears fresh in his eyes.

"We all have bad habits," Wolf said, his gaze traveling to Vash's arm. "Stop that."

Vash looked down. His right hand had been digging at the bandage, tearing open the scabs. His left wrist throbbed with dull heat.

"I can't stand the smell of smoke," Vash said, tugging the bandage back into place.

Wolf took a long drag on the cigarette. "Get used to it. I don't have any patience for people with double standards."

"It's not that. It…reminds me of something bad that happened. Something I want to forget."

After a moment, Wolf put out the cigarette and stood up. "Well, sorry. I have things I want to forget, too. And that's hard when one of them is staring me in the face."

Vash frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Wolf shut the window and turned his back on Vash. "Don't worry about it."

Vash lay awake the rest of the night. Before the sun came up, when Wolf was asleep on the floor, Vash got out of bed and went to stand beside him. He watched Wolf's chest rise and fall, listened to the slow and steady breathing. Then he crouched down and slid one arm behind Wolf's neck, the other beneath his knees, lifted him from the floor and carried him to the bed. He laid him carefully on the mattress and quietly crept out of the room.

_Don't get so sentimental,_ he warned himself. _You knew it was a bad idea from the start._

But as he left the silent building and walked out into the early morning chill, he couldn't put his feelings behind him. No matter how fast he ran, they'd always catch up eventually.


	4. Heavy Cross

_After Mom disappeared, my father packed me off to St. Michael's Academy. Said even if I was a good-for-nothing piece of shit, at least I was going to get a decent Catholic education. He was as glad to be rid of me as I was to be rid of him. I spent most of my holidays at school and only had to stay with him once a year, for summer vacation. For a while, St. Michael's was my home._

_ When I came to Augusta, I left every shred of that place behind me. Including St. Michael's. Including my old name. But there's one person I'll always remember. One name I don't want to forget._

* * *

><p>Nicholas sat down in the dark booth and tucked his hands under his knees. He stared at the closed door and took a deep breath.<p>

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…uh…two hours since my last confession…"

"What is it this time, Nicholas? Smoking in the bathroom? Skipping algebra again?"

"Brother Matthias?" Nicholas turned and peered through the wooden screen beside him. "What are you doing here? Only Father Chapel is allowed to hear confessions—"

"Father Chapel is out on an errand. Everyone else is in class, where they're supposed to be. But I heard a certain student of mine was in need of spiritual guidance, and I thought perhaps I could help."

Nicholas looked down at his feet. "I'm glad it's you in there and not him. But won't you get in trouble?"

"If you want to be technical about it, yes. I can't grant you absolution, anyway. Would you rather talk in my office?"

"No. I'd rather stay in here, if that's okay."

"I won't tell if you don't." He could hear the smile in Brother Matthias's voice. "What's on your mind?"

Nicholas bit his lip. He felt sick. "I'm kind of afraid to tell you. Are you going to have to tell Father Chapel?"

"Nothing leaves this room. I promise."

"Okay." He exhaled slowly. "It's the new kid. Livio. He was crying again, and these guys were making fun of him so I told them to…you know…screw off. But with the other word."

"That hardly constitutes a mortal sin, Nicholas."

"That's not the bad part. After they left and Livio was just sitting there, I wanted to stay because, I don't know, he looked so sad, and we talked for a while, and when he was feeling better he hugged me, and I wanted to k—k—I wanted to—"

"Kill him? Commit a crime? Curse the name of God?"

"_Kiss_ him," Nicholas blurted out angrily. He could feel his face burning up in shame, and tears welled in his eyes. "I didn't do it. But every time I see him, I feel—so awful. So wrong. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what I did to deserve this." He scrubbed at his face, but the tears kept coming. "Am I—am I being punished? Is it some kind of test?"

He covered his mouth with his hands, trying to smother the sobs that kept heaving out of his chest. He cried until he could breathe again, his heart worn out and his body numb.

"Nicholas," Brother Matthias said at last. "Forgive us. Forgive me. Please."

"What?" Nicholas sniffed.

"Listen to me. I am going to say something dangerous, but it must be said. You are not being punished. It's not a test. You have done nothing wrong."

"B—But Father Chapel says that homosexuality is inherently evil and—"

"We are fallible, Nicholas. We are followers of an ancient mystery and we are bound by the limits of our fragile minds. To this day, we argue over the truth. The only truth we know for certain is this: that we are human. Even Father Chapel, if you can believe that."

Nicholas laughed, rubbing his nose with his sleeve.

"You have always been so diligent in your own search for truth," Brother Matthias went on. "You're skipping class to go to confession, for God's sake. And I wish I'd known sooner the toll it's been taking. You carry a great weight on your shoulders, Nicholas Wolfwood. You carry the burden that should have belonged to us, to the ones who taught you these human ideas without the knowledge of the harm they'd cause. That is why I am asking for your forgiveness. I am asking you to absolve us."

Nicholas looked up, startled. "You can't say that. I can't…"

"Wrong. _Only_ you can. You alone."

He wanted to argue, but Brother Matthias was so sincere that he felt he had no choice. So Nicholas said the prayer of absolution, his voice barely a whisper.

"May we both go with God," Brother Matthias said, making the sign of the cross.

Those were the last words Nicholas would ever hear him say. The next morning, Father Chapel called an assembly and announced that Brother Matthias would no longer be teaching at St. Michael's. And that's when everything began to fall apart.

* * *

><p>Wolf stared out the library window at the rain falling outside. He hadn't thought about that day in a long time, but the memory was fresh in his mind. He looked down at the textbook in his lap, the page he'd been trying to study for the last hour. Before he could make it through the first paragraph, the words swam together and the lines blurred. Wolf closed the book, a headache setting in.<p>

He hadn't seen Vash all day. That morning at work, he'd made up his mind to apologize, feeling like a jerk over what he'd said the night before. But Vash wasn't in the room, and Meryl and Millie said they hadn't seen him, either.

_Maybe he'll be back tonight,_ Wolf thought, packing up his books and putting on his coat. He hoped Vash hadn't done anything stupid. He was afraid to think about it for too long.

Wolf bought a second cup of coffee from the shop downstairs and decided to go back to Chapel Hall one more time before he went to class. The rain was a freezing downpour, and by the time he reached the dorm his coat was nearly soaked through. He waved to Millie in the atrium and headed upstairs, a path of rainwater dripping behind him.

He opened the door to see Vash standing by the window, drenched and shivering. The lights were out, and the dreary afternoon cast everything in a dark shade of blue. Wolf stepped in and flipped the light switch.

Vash flinched, turning on his heel as though he were expecting some predator to sneak up on him. Then he relaxed and smiled a little. "Nice weather we're having." His teeth chattered as he said it.

_He must have gotten back right before I did. _Wolf saw the thin clothes clinging to his frame, the pool of water forming at his feet, but none of it registered until he came closer and realized how badly Vash was shivering. How pale blue his skin looked, and not because of the light.

"God." Wolf reached for his hand. It was colder than the air outside. "Vash, how long were you out there?"

"I don't know." The words took too long for his lips to form. "I went for a run. You're home from work early, aren't you?"

Wolf felt a lump in his throat as he unbuttoned his coat and wrapped it around Vash's shoulders. "I came home hours ago. It's almost six."

Vash didn't look like he entirely comprehended what Wolf was saying. "Guess I ran pretty far," he tried to laugh.

Wolf pulled him into his arms without thinking. He held him there, cold and trembling, until his eyes blurred and the tears ran down with the rainwater. Until he wasn't sure whose heartbeat he felt hammering against his ribcage. Then he sat Vash beside the space heater and turned it up high.

"Wait here, all right?" Wolf gathered every blanket he could find and piled them over Vash. "I'm going to go get help."

"Don't do that," Vash said, even as a violent shudder ran down his spine. "I'm fine. Really."

Wolf slammed the door on him. _Idiot. You've gotten yourself into enough trouble already._

He reached the atrium, only to find an R.A. he didn't recognize standing at the desk. "Millie just left," the R.A. told him. "You might catch her if you run."

Wolf bolted out into the rain. And when he caught a glimpse of brown hair shining under a parking lot streetlight, he waved like crazy.

"Millie!" he panted when he caught up to her. "Thank God. I need your help."

* * *

><p>They ended up in Meryl and Millie's room, which was a spacious double with its own bathroom and a fireplace built into the ancient stonework. "It gets colder on the first floor during the winter," Meryl explained, but Wolf couldn't help feeling cheated.<p>

As Meryl struck a match and the fireplace came to life with a warm red glow, Vash awoke with a gasp. He'd only been half conscious when they helped him to the couch, and now his eyes were wide and he'd started shaking again. Wolf sat down beside him. "You okay?"

Vash stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the flames. Then Wolf remembered what he'd said last night, about hating the smell of smoke.

"It's not the smoke you're afraid of, is it?" Wolf kept his voice low, so Millie and Meryl wouldn't hear. "We're safe. Don't be scared."

The shivering subsided a little. Vash rested his head on Wolf's shoulder, and though Wolf's first instinct was to worry about whether anyone was watching, he found that he didn't really care.

"I'll make some tea," Millie offered.

"You have a kitchen, too?" Wolf griped. "Hang on, I can do that."

"No, stay there." Millie smiled and nodded toward Vash. "Looks like you're helping."

Wolf glanced down at Vash, who was almost asleep. His face had some of its color back and his hair was starting to dry. Wolf took a quilt from the arm of the couch and spread it over them both.

Meryl rolled her desk chair over and sat beside them in front of the fire. "Does he do this kind of thing often?" she asked Wolf.

"What kind of thing?"

"The running around in a thunderstorm for ten hours straight in nothing but his pajamas kind of thing."

"Not that one specifically. But generally…maybe."

Millie brought the tea tray over and set it on the hearth. She gave a cup to Wolf, and he held it up to Vash's chin. Vash blinked his eyes open sleepily.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" he mumbled.

"They'll survive without me," Wolf replied. "You, on the other hand, I'm not so sure about."

Vash only took a few sips of the tea before he fell asleep again. Wolf finished off the rest of the tea with Meryl and Millie as the room grew warm around them. After a while, Meryl retreated to her desk to do some homework and Millie sat by the fire typing on her laptop for the better part of an hour. Wolf felt himself nodding off, so he talked to stay awake.

"What are you writing, Millie?"

"Oh, just some emails," Millie said brightly.

"She writes to her family every night," Meryl said without looking up from her work. "Immediate and extended. She has about twenty brothers and sisters."

"That's not true! I only have six."

"Well, if you count the cousins and the aunts and uncles and grandmothers, it's more like twenty."

Wolf's eyelids grew heavy. He caught himself drifting off in the middle of their banter, and shook his head to clear the haze. "I guess we'd better get going," he said, yawning. "Sorry to trouble you both for so long."

"Oh." Meryl stood up. "I assumed you were staying the night. You're welcome to sleep there, you know."

"Isn't that against the rules?"

Meryl wore her strictest scowl. "We make the rules, Mr. Wolfwood." Then her mouth slid into a smile. It was the first time Wolf had heard her make a joke. He smiled back.

"Seriously, it's a comfortable couch," Meryl said. "There's even an extra bed that we never use, if you want it. Come to think, we should probably move that thing up to your room…"

Wolf was starting to doze again, but this time he didn't fight it. Underneath the quilt, he found Vash's hand and held it in his. Then the folds of darkness came down, and a blissful silence, and finally sleep, deep and dreamless.

* * *

><p>Sometime that night Wolf woke to find the fire dying, the embers glimmering faintly in the dark. He stood up to put another log on the fire, careful not to wake Vash. As the flames stirred, Wolf could see the R.A. girls asleep in the corner of the room, Millie's arm wrapped around Meryl, the firelight warm on their faces. The room reminded Wolf of another room he'd been in long ago, one of the few places he'd ever felt safe and welcome. He sat by the fire for a minute, building it up with tinder and new logs, then went back to the couch where Vash had curled up on his side.<p>

Wolf watched the light flicker around the curves of his face, the ends of his hair. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and probably hadn't eaten, either. But then again, neither had Wolf.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against Vash's mouth. Warm breath, fevered skin, the taste of fire. Wolf raised his head.

_That was for Tuesday night,_ he thought with a weak smile. And he curled up on the couch beside Vash with both arms around him.

* * *

><p>Wolf was late for work the next morning. He couldn't get his bike to start and so he had to pedal the whole way, wearing himself out by the time he got there. Amelia shot him angry looks all through class, but when they sat down alone in the classroom for their lunch break, Wolf noticed a smug grin on her face.<p>

"Something funny?" he asked, picking at the meager salad he'd bought in the cafeteria.

"No," Amelia replied. "Just wondering when you're going to tell me who you did last night."

Wolf choked on a leaf of lettuce, and Amelia laughed. "You're so transparent."

"As usual, I have no clue what you're talking about," Wolf rasped.

"Quit stalling. You were late for work, your clothes look like you slept in them, and you've been making that same bleary-eyed cow face all morning. Who's been tickling your tonsils, Wolfwood?"

"_No one _has been—what the hell kind of expression is that? Leave me alone, already."

Amelia took a bite of her sandwich. "Maybe I _should_ report all those tardy slips to your advisor. At this rate, you're going to lose your job and your stipend. The faculty might decide not to let you take that trip this winter, after all."

Wolf glared at her. "You wouldn't."

She shrugged and let out a sigh. "No. Unfortunately, the kids like you too much. And you can be helpful, every once in a blue moon."

He relaxed. "Good. Because I'm not going to tell you anything."

"What? Now I _know_ you're hiding something!"

The bell rang to signal the end of the lunch period, and Amelia pestered him as they walked down the hall to fetch the third graders. "Give me a name, at least!"

"Ms. Amelia, you should be ashamed of yourself." Wolf put his finger to his lips in mock reproach. "Not in front of the children."

"I'm gonna rip your hair out _and_ get you fired," Amelia muttered.

* * *

><p>Vash had come down with a cold that day, so Wolf expected him to be asleep when he returned. But he opened the door to find Vash sitting on the floor amid a mess of papers and open books, scribbling furiously on a notepad.<p>

"You should be in bed." Wolf noticed with disappointment that Vash hadn't showered or changed the bandage on his wrist, and he was only wearing a T-shirt and shorts in the clammy room. _Honestly, how has he lived this long?_ Wolf wondered. "Turn on the heater, anyway," he said.

"No time. Too many things," Vash murmured, not looking up from the notepad.

_Probably catching up on all the classwork he's missed._ Wolf picked up a sheet of paper and studied it. "Whoa. Vash, I think you need to chill. Nobody's going to accept a paper that's written in hieroglyphics."

Vash stared at him with wild, frightened eyes. "Help me. I can't figure it out."

His face was flushed and beading with sweat. "What are you talking about?" Wolf sat down in front of him, prying the notepad from his trembling hands. Clipped to the first page was a crossword puzzle torn from a newspaper, the letter boxes filled in and crossed out and erased several times over. Vash had scrawled rows of letters in odd combinations that covered every page of the notepad, with indecipherable symbols and doodles scattered throughout.

Wolf laughed. "Okay, it's time for you to take a nap."

"It's a message, Wolf. Hidden in the letters."

"Yeah, I know. We can decode it later."

"He was here, wasn't he? Did you see him? Was he here?"

The fear in Vash's voice was beginning to make Wolf nervous. He had a sudden image of the creepy blue-haired guy who came looking for Vash three days ago. _No, this is definitely not a good time to ask about that._

"It's just us," Wolf said. "Hold on, I'll help you up."

Vash gripped his arm a little too tightly as Wolf dragged him to the bed. "Not safe," he mumbled, over and over.

"You're fine," Wolf said. "Everything's fine." But after Vash closed his eyes and he looked around at the paper-strewn floor, Wolf wasn't sure he believed his own words.

* * *

><p>His evening class was cancelled, so Wolf stayed in with Vash. Not that he would have had much of a choice. Every time he opened the door to go to the bathroom down the hall or to buy food in the refectory, Vash begged him not to leave, pleading to the point of tears. So Wolf was relieved when Meryl knocked on the door that night and asked if they needed anything.<p>

"I wanted to check on Vash," she said. "Is he feeling any better?"

"He's got a fever." Wolf was reluctant to say anything about the crossword puzzle. "I hate to ask, Meryl, but could you take my wallet and buy us some food? I'm kind of…stuck here."

"Close the door!" Vash's alarmed voice rang out in the room. "It's not safe! Close the door!"

Meryl peered around the door, eyebrows arched. "He's been like this for a while," Wolf said.

"Are you sure we don't need to take him to the clinic?" Meryl asked.

Wolf thought about the scars on Vash's arm and shook his head earnestly. "No, I think he just needs some rest. And maybe some cold medicine."

Meryl took his wallet and put it in her pocket. "I'll see if I can find something. Call Millie if you need help while I'm gone. She's at the desk right now."

"Thanks, Meryl. I mean it."

He put a hand on her shoulder, and she smiled. "Hey, it's our job to keep an eye on you."

Wolf closed the door when she left. He sat down on the floor beside the bed and leaned his head on the mattress next to Vash. _What I wouldn't give for a smoke, _he thought.

Was this going to be his life from now on? For the rest of the semester, anyway. But when Wolf thought about it, he couldn't imagine ever leaving Vash's side.

He felt Vash's hand reaching for his head, tugging at his hair.

"I'm right here," Wolf said.

_And I always will be._


	5. Not an Angel

_The first time I fired a gun, I was ten years old. I pulled the trigger and there was a flash of light. One bullet was all it took. The man died right in front of me, his blood spraying my face. I screamed and I screamed. All I wanted was to turn the gun on myself and fire again, but somebody stopped me._

_ To this day, I wish he hadn't._

* * *

><p>Vash sat in the bluish glow of his laptop screen with his knees pulled up to his chin. He had found the scrap of newspaper in the pile that Wolf had gathered from the floor and left in a stack on the desk. Vash scanned the empty boxes left in the crossword. <em>Think. He sent you this because he knew you'd figure it out.<em> But Vash had been grappling with the puzzle for hours, and he hadn't made any progress.

With a heavy sigh, Vash folded the crossword and tucked it in his pocket. He looked across the room at Wolf asleep on the bed, the first feeble rays of dawn streaming through the window. Vash wished he knew how to thank Wolf for putting up with him over the last couple of days. He wasn't used to depending on anyone else. The fact that he'd troubled Wolf so much made him feel rotten inside.

_All right. _Vash stood up, renewing his resolve. _I can do this._

He took a shower and changed his clothes. He cleaned the wounds on his arm and put on a new bandage. He straightened the room and took a load of clothes down to the laundry in the basement. On his way back up, he spotted Millie on the staircase, still in her pajamas.

"Millie!"

"Oh, hi Mr. Vash! Feeling better today?"

"Tons." Vash grinned. "I need to ask you for a favor, though. Would it be okay if I borrowed your kitchen this morning?"

* * *

><p>Wolf was completely confused when he came to Meryl and Millie's door an hour later, barefoot and disheveled with a crumpled note in his hand. "Have you guys seen Vash?" he asked. "There was this note—"<p>

He stopped talking as Meryl and Millie showed him inside. Vash was standing in the narrow kitchen with a skillet full of eggs. "You're just in time!" Vash smiled. "Have a seat."

Wolf looked from the R.A. girls to Vash and back again. Vash could hardly contain his amusement.

"But you—" Wolf spluttered. "You were—"

"Come sit down, Mr. Wolfwood!" Millie waved him over to the folding table they'd set up in the middle of the room. "Mr. Vash made breakfast for everyone!"

"You've all been so nice to me," Vash said as he set out the plates. "I wanted to say thanks."

He caught Wolf's gaze when he said this. Wolf was at a loss for words.

Millie started up a conversation with Vash as they dug into the eggs and toast. Vash complained about the homework for their art class, and Meryl showed off the painting that Millie had already completed. Wolf didn't speak, but Vash looked over at him every so often and smiled. He hoped it was enough, though he felt it never would be.

Wolf helped Vash with the dishes when they were finished. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked.

"One hundred percent," Vash replied.

"Because you don't have to lie if you're not."

Vash paused in the middle of stacking the plates. He snuck a glance at Wolf's dark eyes, deep and sincere. Then he put the dishes down and wrapped his arms around Wolf.

"I'm sorry," Vash said. "About everything."

After a moment, Wolf's shoulders went slack and he laid his head against Vash's chest. "It's okay."

Vash didn't want to let go of him for a long time. Wolf didn't seem to want to move, either, but he mumbled into Vash's jacket, "I have to go soon. Mentoring."

"Can I come with you? I don't have anywhere to be today."

Wolf considered this. "I guess that would be okay. You'll have to help out, though."

Vash put away the last of the dishes and smiled. "That's what I'm here for."

* * *

><p>The churchyard was alive with screams and laughter. In the warm sunlight, children of all ages were racing around the playground, including one very tall, very loud, blonde boy.<p>

"Whoever catches me gets sixty billion dollars!" Vash yelled, running from one end of the yard to the other. The kids bolted after him, arms outstretched.

"No fair! You're too fast!"

"Let's corner him! He's going for the fence!"

Two kids sprang from behind a picnic table and grabbed Vash's ankles, throwing him to the ground. Vash shrieked, "I've been ambushed! Help!" as the mob of children caught up, pinning him down.

"Isn't anyone going to save me?" Vash cried beneath the trampling feet.

"You promised us sixty billion dollars! Search his pockets!"

Vash screamed and tried to roll away. "Police! Police!"

"Liar! You're broke!"

"Let's get him!"

When the game finally ended, Vash couldn't lift himself from the ground. His sides ached from laughing. _I haven't laughed that hard in a long time,_ Vash thought, closing his eyes with a tired smile.

"Vash?"

His eyes blinked open. A little girl was standing next to him, holding out a folded slip of paper. "You dropped this," she said.

Vash recognized the faded newsprint before he opened it. The crossword must have fallen out of his pocket when they were playing. Good thing it hadn't gone far. Vash sat up and was about to thank her, then he opened the paper and his smile vanished.

One of the words had been filled in.

The cool breeze suddenly felt frigid. "Did you write this?" Vash asked the girl, his throat dry.

Her eyes filled up with tears. "I didn't want to."

"What do you mean? What happened?" Vash took her hands in his, but she pulled them away.

"He made me do it," she whimpered.

Vash felt a knife of fear in his chest. "Who?"

The little girl pointed toward the fence. On the other side stood a man Vash had never seen before. He was about Vash's height and looked to be the same age. His hair was dark blue. Vash couldn't tell whether he was looking back at him or not.

"Go and find Mr. Wolf," Vash whispered to the girl. "But stay inside, okay?"

She nodded and ran for the door. Vash stood up.

_Have a moment to chat, Vash the Stampede?_

He froze. At first Vash thought the man had spoken, but he hadn't seen his lips move. And he was standing too far away. He shouldn't be able to hear…

_No, you shouldn't. But you can._

The voice was unmistakable this time. The man was talking to him, but not out loud. And he'd heard that voice before.

_You're the one who called me,_ Vash thought.

_Very nice, detective. I was beginning to think you were hopeless at solving puzzles._

Vash squeezed his fist around the paper. _What did you do to that little girl?_

_ The same thing I'm doing to you. Why? Are you afraid?_

He tried not to think about the chill crawling up the back of his neck. But even from a distance, he could see the man's smile.

_Where is Knives? _Vash asked him silently.

_Empty boxes, Vash. Fill them in and you'll find out. I already gave you a hint._

Vash stared down at the crossword, the letters scrawled by a child's hand. _Puppets._

_Look at them, _the voice said, and Vash felt almost as if his head was being turned by someone else to face the playground, the laughing children.

_I want you to remember their faces. And remember who's pulling the strings. There may come a day when you will be forced to decide their fates._

Vash felt the blood roaring in his veins. _You won't lay a hand on them._

_ I won't have to._

The wind shivered in the grass, and the sounds of the churchyard flooded back into Vash's ears. He sank to his knees, unable to hold his own weight.

"Vash? What's wrong?"

Wolf was standing in the open doorway of the church. He jogged down the steps toward the playground.

"Stop!" Vash yelled. "Wolf, go back—"

But when he looked behind him in fear, the man was no longer there.

Wolf came to his side, reaching for his hand to help him up. "What's the matter? Kids beat you up?"

Vash found it harder than usual to fake a smile. His legs were unsteady as Wolf led him across the yard. "Come on, let's get everyone inside."

* * *

><p>After Wolf's mentoring session was over, Vash insisted that they stay until the bus arrived to pick up the kids.<p>

"There's a chaperone waiting with them already," Wolf told him.

"I know. But I want to make sure they get home safely."

Wolf seemed curious, but he didn't press the issue. They sat on the steps outside the church and watched the small crowd of children talking and playing games on the sidewalk. Vash hadn't taken his eyes off them since the blue-haired stranger had disappeared.

"Who takes care of these kids?" he asked Wolf.

"Foster families, mostly. Some of them have parents who work a lot and need a free daycare. A lot of them came from bad home situations. The church started this program last year, and I got my advisor to let me volunteer for service credit."

One of the older boys came over to the steps and waved shyly at Wolf. He looked like he was eleven or twelve years old, with messy brown hair and a sullen face. A book was tucked under his arm.

"What is it, Shepherd?" Wolf asked. "Need some more help with that chapter?"

The boy nodded.

"Come sit with us. I'll read it with you." As the boy climbed the stairs and sat next to them, Wolf said, "This is my friend Vash."

Shepherd peered around Wolf and lifted his hand timidly. Vash smiled and held up his hand in response.

"Show me the page you're on," Wolf said.

Vash watched as Wolf talked him through a passage in the book, sounding out the words and pausing to let Shepherd read them over again. The boy never spoke a word, but Wolf didn't seem to have any trouble understanding what he needed. They read together until the bus pulled up and the other children began to file onboard. Shepherd waited until the last minute to wave goodbye and run down the steps.

"See you next week," Wolf called. The boy looked over his shoulder and gave Wolf the hint of a smile before heading onto the bus.

Wolf turned to see Vash beaming from ear to ear.

"Now there's a sight I never thought I'd see again," Wolf said as they stood up to leave.

"What do you mean?" Vash asked.

"All this time you've been trying to look happy, while something was eating you alive. But just now, you smiled for real."

Vash felt as if someone had taken off his mask for the very first time. He wasn't sure if he was happy or sad or scared or relieved. Maybe he was all of them at once.

He followed Wolf down the sidewalk through town as leaves drifted down from the trees.

"Are you Shepherd's mentor?" he asked after a while.

"Yeah. They assigned him to me when I first started volunteering. Nobody else knows how to talk to him."

"Does he ever say anything?"

Wolf narrowed his eyes. "He says plenty of things. Couldn't you tell? Not everyone needs a voice to speak."

Vash picked at the bandage under his sleeve. "Sorry. That was stupid of me."

Silence for a minute. Then Wolf saw what Vash was doing, and gently pulled his hand away from his wrist. Vash gripped Wolf's palm tightly.

"It's not easy for most people to understand," Wolf continued. "I used to have trouble with words, though, so it makes sense to me."

They turned a corner and stopped to wait at a crosswalk. "You're a really good person, Wolf."

"Huh?" Wolf looked at him and blushed. "No, I'm not."

"I think you are. Shepherd trusts you. All the kids do. I mean, you spent your whole day helping them. And you help the kids at your job all week long. I've never met anyone so selfless."

Wolf was even more embarrassed now. "Don't say stuff like that. There's nothing special about me. Besides, you seem better with the kids than I am. They were laughing so loud on the playground, I could hear them inside the church. Those boys and girls haven't had much laughter in their lives. If you can make them smile, you must be doing something right."

The walk sign blinked on, and they crossed the street. "I like it when people are happy," Vash said. "But when they're sad, or afraid, or angry, I don't know what to do. I saw how you were with Shepherd. You didn't have to make him smile. You didn't try to make him into someone he wasn't. That's probably why he's comfortable around you. And that's why I think you're a good person. Because you like people the way they are."

Vash waited for a response, but Wolf was quiet and his face was turned away. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and took out a pair of sunglasses, sniffing as he put them on.

"Are you crying, Wolf?"

"_What?_" Wolf barked. "_No._" He sniffed again. "Goddamn sun's too bright."

Vash smirked. He didn't say anything when Wolf pretended to sneeze so he could wipe his face.

A ringtone trilled in Wolf's pocket, and he took out his phone to read the message on the screen. "Millie invited us to another party."

He didn't sound particularly pleased. "Do you want to go?" Vash asked.

"I don't know. I have a lot of homework."

"But it's Saturday!"

"Well…if you're going, I guess I might."

Vash grinned. He was beginning to feel the warmth of the sunlight, feel the world righting itself again. Maybe it was because of the easy conversation, or maybe it was because of the beautiful afternoon weather.

But mainly, Vash thought, it was because Wolf hadn't let go of his hand for the entire walk home.

* * *

><p>They drove to the party in Meryl's station wagon, the windows rolled down and the radio tuned to Millie's favorite eighties station. Vash and Millie knew every word to every song. Meryl and Wolf exchanged long-suffering glances in the rearview mirror.<p>

As soon as they reached the house, Vash challenged Meryl to another shootout, and within minutes they were halfway through a bottle of whiskey with their arms battling on the table.

"Want to know a secret?" Vash asked Meryl through clenched teeth. "Last time, when you thought you beat me…_I let you win._"

"Nice try," Meryl growled. "Who taught you how to bluff? Millie?"

By the twelfth shot, both their arms were shaking.

"Maybe you should call it a draw," Wolf said, swishing around what little was left of the whiskey.

"Shut up and pour!" Vash and Meryl yelled in unison.

Wolf emptied the bottle into their glasses and muttered, "Bang."

Sometime later, Vash woke up with his head on the table. Meryl lay across from him, her hand still loosely entwined with his.

"Who won?" Vash groaned.

Meryl failed to lift her head. "Don't know. Where…Millie…"

Vash sat up and lost his vision for a moment. "Think I'm gonna puke."

"Not here," Meryl protested.

The wave of nausea passed, but Vash's head felt like it was about to roll off his shoulders. He slumped forward on the table again. "I was winning," he mumbled.

"Just keep telling yourself."

They snoozed on the table for a while, until the haze lifted a bit and Vash was able to stagger to the refrigerator for a soda. "You want one?" he asked Meryl.

"Sure."

Vash sat down and passed her a can. They toasted, weakly.

"Guess Wolf and Millie got tired of us," Vash said.

"They don't know what they're missing." Meryl took a long gulp of soda. "Why don't you go find Wolf? I saw the way he was staring at you earlier."

She gave him a sidelong smile, but Vash was perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he was giving you the same look Millie gives me when she wants me to take her to bed."

Vash considered this. "You think he's sleepy?"

Meryl's eyes widened. "Um…no."

An awkward silence descended. They took alternating sips of their drinks, until Meryl finally said, "You do _like_ Wolf, don't you?"

Vash was surprised. "Of course!" But then he saw Meryl's expression, and the pieces fell into place. "Oh, you mean…oh." He wrapped both hands around the can of soda, feeling the cold condensation on his palms, and stared down at the table. "I guess I haven't really thought about it like that before."

Meryl tried a different approach. "What do you feel when you see him?"

_When I see him…_ Vash pictured dark eyes and a solemn face, the hand that held his that afternoon. "I'm always glad to see him. But it's better if he's smiling. I want him to be happy all the time." He thought of Wolf sitting with Shepherd on the church steps, Wolf smoking at the window, Wolf taping the bandage on his arm. "I want to look after him, but it seems like he's the one who always ends up looking after me. I don't know how that makes me feel. All I know is that I want to spend every last day with him."

Vash was too embarrassed to look at Meryl. Tears came to his eyes, unwanted. Then he felt her hand on his cheek.

"You're something else, Vash." Her voice was quiet. "He's lucky to have you."

He reached up and squeezed her hand. _No,_ he thought. _I'm the lucky one._ Meryl, and Millie, and Wolf…no one in the world had ever meant so much to him, not since Rem. He wanted to hold onto them as long as he could.

And so he knew he had to protect them, whatever the cost may be.


	6. Sanctuary

_ His name was Livio. He was twelve years old, I was thirteen. Both of his parents had died that year, and his remaining family, none of whom had time to raise a child, sent him to boarding school at St. Michael's Academy. He cried every day for weeks. At first I didn't feel sorry for him. Better to have dead parents who had loved you than to have living ones who treated you like dirt. That was how my young mind saw it, anyway._

_ But Livio didn't even bother to stick up for himself when the other kids bullied him. The more I watched, the angrier I became, until one day I made them sorry they'd ever thought about pushing him around. Livio didn't cry so much after that. We spent a lot of time together, and my opinion of him changed. I wanted to be close to him, watch over him, keep him safe. I'd never felt that way about anyone else before._

_ And for one brief moment, I thought he felt the same way about me._

* * *

><p>The office that had once belonged to Brother Matthias was cold and dark. Nicholas sat in the armchair before the empty fireplace, staring into the shadows with a blank expression. He'd run out of tears hours ago. Now there was nothing but the cold air numbing his face, and a hollow feeling in his chest. He didn't know how long he sat there, but the sun was going down outside when someone finally opened the door.<p>

"I thought I might find you here," Livio said.

Nicholas made no reply.

"Aren't you cold?"

He shrugged.

"Father Chapel sent me to look for you. He wants you to report to—"

"I'm not going anywhere. You can tell him to suck it, for all I care."

"Nicholas…" Livio sounded different, somehow. Like he was shrinking. Like he was scared. "It'll be easier if you just do what he says."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Nicholas glared at Livio. "Are you…are you _siding_ with that sick bastard?"

"There are no sides to the truth." Livio's words seemed fake, rehearsed. "You have to realize that what Brother Matthias did…he was twisted, Nicholas. He was evil."

"You've got to be kidding me." Nicholas stood up, hands clenched into fists. "Don't tell me you actually believe all that shit Father Chapel made up about…" He stopped, suddenly. In the dark, he hadn't seen it right away. "God. Livio, what happened to your face?"

Livio stepped back. He was starting to cry. "Just do what he says. Promise me."

"Did that—did that _monster_—"

Nicholas reached for him, but Livio pushed him away. "Don't touch me!" He struggled for each breath, sobs threatening to take over. "Nicholas…listen to me. What we felt…what you feel…it isn't right. He led you astray. You have to…you have to believe…"

Livio's eyes were shut tight, his shoulders shaking as though he were holding some malignant beast inside of him. "Livio." Nicholas approached him carefully, opening his arms. "This isn't like you. I want to help. Can you tell me what happened to—"

"Stop." Livio's eyes flashed open, dark and spiteful. "Stay away from me. Don't ever come near me again."

Nicholas felt as if he'd just been shot. He stood with his arms spread, the pain slicing his heart open. Livio turned his back and ran out the door. Nicholas heard his footsteps fade down the hall. The one person he cared about. The one person he had left. Livio.

He crumpled on the floor and screamed until his lungs hurt. In a span of less than twenty-four hours, he'd lost the only two people in the world that mattered to him. And with the cruelest clarity, he now understood why Livio had cried so much over his parents. Because loving someone and losing them was a hundred times worse than being beaten by someone who hated you. It made you wish you'd never had the guts to love them at all.

Two days later, Nicholas received the first note.

It was tucked between the pages of his history textbook, a scrap of paper with a single message typed out: _What happened to Brother Matthias was wrong._

Nicholas didn't remember taking the book out of his backpack. He was alone in the library when he found the note, and there was no indication of who had left it.

Another note appeared the next day, this time in his locker: _What happened to Livio was wrong._

He remembered the wound he'd seen on the side of Livio's face. The absolute fear he'd heard in his voice. And then he felt the slightest trace of hope. Someone was on their side. Someone knew the truth.

When Nicholas uncovered the third note, hidden beneath his pillow, he actually felt relieved.

_Chapel will pay for his sins._

Something sinister crept into Nicholas's heart and took hold. He knew it was wrong, but he didn't care. He wanted Father Chapel to be punished. He wanted the note to follow through with its promise.

But he never expected what happened next.

One week after Brother Matthias's dismissal, a second assembly was held. The deacon who stood at the podium seemed uncertain of how to begin. He mopped his brow constantly, gazing around the sanctuary full of students with a look of complete loss on his face. "Everyone," he said at last, "I'm afraid I have some troubling news. It would seem that…early this morning…our beloved Father Chapel, due to a horrible accident…"

Nicholas barely heard the words _has perished_, barely saw the deacon break down in tears at the podium, because his heart was pounding too loud and his vision was blacking out. He bit his lip hard to keep from fainting. _It can't be. This isn't happening._ But the deacon was speaking again, about something that went wrong when Father Chapel started his car, an explosion, a terrible fire…

He thought of the notes in his backpack, in his locker, under his pillow. There would be an investigation. Someone would read them. Someone would suspect him.

When they were dismissed from the assembly, classes cancelled for the day, Nicholas ran to his room and retrieved the notes. He pocketed his lighter and climbed out the window, across the lawn, into the woods where he normally hid to smoke. He set the papers aflame and watched them burn to ash. Then, with the sudden thought that a lighter might seem suspect as well, he threw it into the creek. He had to stay calm. He hadn't done anything wrong. All he did was read the notes.

_And fail to do anything to stop them. _The thought came to his mind in someone else's voice. Brother Matthias. He would never have allowed this to happen. Even though he was the one who'd been wronged.

Nicholas covered his face with his hands. "I didn't want it to go this far," he whispered. "I didn't want him to die. You know that, don't you? This wasn't my fault."

Only silence answered him. He returned to his room to find a slip of paper on the windowsill. The same damned typeface. It read, _This is our revenge_.

Nicholas shredded the note to pieces, hands shaking, throat closing up. No. He wasn't involved. He wasn't a murderer. His tears fell and turned the shreds to pulp. Burying his face in his pillow, Nicholas smothered his frightened sobs and tried not to scream.

Livio caught his attention the next day in class. He looked absolutely wretched. From across the room, his eyes burned into Nicholas with a glare of pure hatred. Then he looked away.

An investigation was conducted. Students were questioned, belongings were searched. No conclusive evidence was ever found to reach a conviction. The event was deemed accidental, a horrible tragedy.

But Nicholas knew the truth. And in the years that passed, after the new priest arrived, after Livio moved away, after he graduated and left St. Michael's behind forever, the truth would continue to haunt him.

* * *

><p>Wolf watched the cigarette burn down to a stub in his hand. He was conscious of the sting as the embers touched his skin, but he didn't react to it. The night breeze ruffled his hair and raised goosebumps on his neck. A muffled bass beat thumped endlessly from inside the house. Then soft footsteps swished through the grass, and Millie stood beside him.<p>

"Aren't you cold out here, Mr. Wolfwood?"

Her voice broke into his thoughts like headlights piercing fog. Wolf dropped the cigarette stub and crushed it with his toe. "You know you can call me just plain Wolf, Millie. Everybody else does."

Millie giggled nervously. "I guess it is pretty silly, huh? Mr. Vash told me you were only nineteen, so that makes me two years older!"

Wolf's face burned up in rage. "What the hell did he tell you that for? I'm gonna kill that son of a—"

"Don't worry, Mr. Wolfwood!" Millie raised her hands to stop him. "I won't tell anyone! Besides, Meryl is little, too! She's only twenty, but I still feel like she's older than me sometimes."

The word _little_ made Wolf want to kick something. It was impossible to stay mad at Millie, though, and eventually he sighed. "That's easy to believe," he muttered.

For a while, the silence took over. Then he saw Millie shiver, and he started to unbutton his coat.

"Oh, please don't," Millie said. "I'll be fine."

Wolf held it out for her anyway. "I don't need it. I'm roasting out here," he lied.

They both shared a laugh at this. Millie put her arms through the sleeves and burrowed her hands in the deep pockets. She smiled. "Thank you."

A few cars drove down the street, red taillights trailing out of sight. Wolf chewed on his lip, then spoke. "Can I ask you something? About…you and Meryl."

"Oh." Millie tensed a little, defensively. "Sure, I guess."

"When did you know you had feelings for her?" Wolf asked the question without looking away from the street.

Millie relaxed, as if she'd been expecting him to say something rude. "A few years ago," she answered. "Meryl and I met in high school. We were best friends. It all happened really naturally, I suppose."

"She felt the same?"

"Yeah. Well, I think she did. At the beginning, we just talked a lot. She came over to my house almost every day. She was part of the family. Then one day we kissed and everything changed." The breeze whipped a strand of hair over her face, and she reached up to push it behind her ear. "My mom doesn't talk to me very much these days. A lot of people in my family don't. I still go home for holidays and summer vacation, but things are different from how they used to be."

Wolf remembered her nightly emails, the hours she spent typing letters. How often did she get a reply? "I don't understand how you can forgive them so easily," Wolf said.

Millie folded her arms. "I don't know if I have, to be honest. But they're still my family. I'll always love them." Her smile resurfaced. "And not everyone is silly about it. Plenty of my brothers and sisters are friends with Meryl. And you and Mr. Vash have been nice to us."

Wolf looked down at his shoes. "Not as nice as you've been to us."

He said it so quietly that he wasn't sure she heard. But then he felt her arms around him, and he knew that she did.

"You and Meryl…you're both so strong." Wolf found himself craning his neck to look into Millie's eyes. "I've wanted to tell you that since the day we met."

Millie's smile was radiant. Normally, the embarrassment would have made her laugh, but this time, her confidence shone through.

"I'm glad you did," she said.

* * *

><p>On the drive home from the party that night, in the warm darkness of the backseat, Vash leaned over and kissed Wolf on the lips. It was the sort of kiss that didn't stop, long and slow and deep, then deeper. They were still holding onto each other when they got out of the car, when they said goodnight to Meryl and Millie, when they climbed the stairs, stumbling and laughing, and fumbled with the key to their room. And all Wolf could think as Vash put his hands inside his shirt and crumbled him to his knees was <em>Finally. Finally.<em>

The touch on his back made him shiver. He'd never felt anyone's hands like that, mapping out his skin, pulling him close. Vash pressed his mouth against Wolf's neck and into the hollow above his collarbone. His hair smelled like sunlight and warm grass. Wolf touched the back of his neck, shyly at first, then combed his fingers upward, his thumb brushing Vash's earring and eliciting a soft moan. The sound made Wolf's pulse quicken, as though it were a sound he'd never realized he needed to hear.

Vash had started to unbutton Wolf's shirt. Before he could finish, Wolf pulled the shirt over his head and felt the cold air strike his skin, soon replaced by the heat of Vash's breath. He unzipped the jacket Vash was wearing and reached for the hem of his shirt, but Vash flinched. Wolf paused, asking the question with his eyes. Then, receiving a halting nod in reply, he lifted the shirt off, carefully rolling the left sleeve away from Vash's arm.

The scars hurt to look at, but Wolf didn't turn away. Instead he laid his hand on Vash's forearm, barely touching the raised, rough scabs, and kissed him on the shoulder. Wolf wasn't sure if he'd ever be admitted into this dark part of Vash's life, ever be allowed to help him heal. And he realized for the first time in years that he was praying for something. Pleading with a God he wasn't positive he believed in. Maybe nothing had seemed important enough to ask for, until now.

He slid both arms around Vash, and without having to think about it, they found their way onto the bed. Vash's face felt hot, the effects of the whiskey not yet worn off, and he traced his fingertips sleepily over Wolf's skin, occasionally sinking lower to Wolf's back pocket or around his belt buckle, until Wolf couldn't bear to be still. He undid the button of Vash's jeans, and he could feel the urge to press closer as Vash leaned against him, opened his mouth on Wolf's chest, down his ribcage, over his stomach. Then Wolf reached for his face and felt the tears under his eyes.

"Vash?" Wolf tried to lift his chin, but Vash clenched his jaw and ducked his head. "What's wrong?" Wolf asked.

"Nothing."

Wolf knew it was a lie. But Vash looked as if he might shatter if Wolf pushed him too hard. So he held Vash's hands and said, "Do you want to do this right now?"

A long silence, then Vash shook his head. "I thought I did. But I guess...I need to think about it some more."

Wolf couldn't help feeling a twinge of regret. Vash was right, though. This wasn't something he wanted to rush into. And he was glad that Vash had told the truth.

"I'm sorry," Vash said.

"No. Don't ever be sorry about that. I could use some time, too."

He searched for their clothes, but Vash grabbed his arm. "I didn't mean you had to leave. I mean...can we stay like this, tonight?"

Wolf gazed down at his soft blue eyes. At times like this, he had a hard time believing that Vash was as old as he said he was.

"Okay," Wolf said at last, crossing the room to turn out the light and returning to the bed. "But we're going to freeze if we don't get under the covers."

He pulled the blankets back to let Vash in beside him. Vash smiled, curling his arm around Wolf's waist, and within moments his eyes were closed and his heartbeat was slow and steady. Wolf lay awake, unused to the warmth of his body, unused to the thirst for something more. _Calm down already,_ he told himself. _This is heaven enough._

So he took advantage of that sleepless night to memorize important things: the weight of Vash's head on his chest, the rhythm of his breathing, the smell and temperature of his skin. And though Wolf was falling behind in all his classes, with the semester hardly begun, he felt that he'd learned more in the past few days than thirteen years of school had ever taught him.

* * *

><p>In the cold dead dark of morning before the sun awakened, Wolf was restless and itching for a cigarette. His eyes had long since adjusted to the shadows of the room, and he could see Vash slumbering away beside him, the contours of his face rimmed in starlight, eyelashes twitching with sightless movement. Wolf touched his lips to the freckle beneath Vash's eye. Then he eased himself out of the bed and retrieved his pack and lighter from the dresser. He stood at the door for a minute or two, stalling.<p>

_Stupid_, he thought. _There's nothing to be afraid of._

Wolf turned the doorknob and stepped out into the hall. No lights on anywhere. Only a row of closed doors in a windowless passage. He felt his way along the wall, arms stretched ahead of him.

The first wooden step creaked under his foot. He found the handrail and followed it down, blind in the absolute pitch of the stairwell. The blackness swallowed him whole.

Was that a voice?

He stood listening, but all he could hear was the sound of his own rattled breathing. _There's no one here._

Wolf came out of the stairwell into a vast, open room. Wooden pews lined the floor. Balconies above, then the enormous painted windows like bloodstains on the walls. The sickly sweet smell of incense permeated the air. He knew this place. But he shouldn't be here. Not now.

"Hello?" Wolf's voice echoed in the empty sanctuary. He took the lighter out of his pocket and flicked the wheel until it caught. The tiny flame cast a pitiful circle of light, revealing nothing but the pew in front of him. Wolf released his thumb and pocketed the lighter again.

Whispers rustled along the walls.

_Okay, screw it. I'm going back to bed. _Wolf turned back to the stairwell, but it wasn't there anymore. The heavy stone walls pinned him in the room, trapped him like an insect in a jar. What the hell was going on?

"Nicholas."

He was certain he'd heard it this time. The whispers were closer now, scuttling along the aisle between the pews. And then, up around the pulpit, Wolf saw a faint blue light.

"_Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but underneath are ravenous wolves_..."

That voice. It was unmistakable. Wolf couldn't peel his eyes away from the light as it took the shape of a man in a robe, a white collar...

"Father Chapel," Wolf choked, but it wasn't, not entirely. Just the upper half of a torso, one arm hanging limp, the legs blown off—how could he stand?—the body suspended there above the podium, black blood dripping down...and his face. There was hardly anything left of it.

_This is a dream. _Wolf sealed his eyes shut. _A really goddamn scary dream, and I'm going to wake up right now. _But he knew that he wasn't asleep. That when he opened his eyes, the figure would still be there.

"St—st—damn it, _stay away._" Wolf fought with the words. "What do you want from me? I t—told you I had nothing to d—d—" He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, cursing himself. "If I just tell you it was my f—my f—_fuck, my fault_, will you leave me alone? I can't...I can't..."

The ghost was standing in front of him now. He could smell the blood and rot, but he wasn't afraid. He was exhausted. He was defeated. He was on his knees.

"God," he whispered, "I can't do this anymore. Please...just leave me alone."

His throat was raw. He knew if he started coughing, he wouldn't be able to stop, so he pressed his fist against his heart and winced until the pain let up. Until he raised his head and saw neither a ghost nor a sanctuary, but the empty atrium of Chapel Hall, lifeless and mundane.

Wolf slumped forward, laying his head on the cold tile of the floor. Several minutes passed before he felt well enough to stand up. When he went outside at last, huddling under the safe luminescence of a streetlight, he lit a cigarette only to find that he no longer wanted it. He watched the smoke hang in the air, heavy as incense, and he wondered if he'd ever get a good night's sleep.

* * *

><p>He was on his way back to the room as the sun came up, hoping at least to catch an hour's nap, when he ran into Vash.<p>

"I was wondering where you'd gone," Vash said with a smile. He was wearing a loose shirt and shorts, his hair even messier than usual. "Man, I slept great. That shootout with Meryl really did me in this time."

By the cheerful tone of his voice, Vash seemed oblivious to the sight of Wolf's hollow, sleep-deprived eyes. How drunk had he actually been last night? How much did he remember?

"Anyway," Vash said, "I'm off for a run. Want to come with me? Since you're already up."

Wolf wedged his hands in his pockets. _Might as well give up on sleep for today. _He wasn't exactly keen on being alone in that creepy old building. "Sure," Wolf answered with a shrug. "I could use the exercise."

"Really?" Vash's eyes lit up. "Great!" And he took off sprinting down the sidewalk without another word.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Wolf jogged after him. "I didn't know you meant right this second!"

Vash doubled, then tripled the gap between them. "What's that, Wolf?" he yelled over his shoulder. "You're going to have to speak up!" His awful laughter rang out over the entire campus, and Wolf groaned as he struggled to match his pace.

It wasn't something he liked to admit, but Wolf could be viciously competitive when he felt his pride was at stake. Although he hated running, he hated losing even more. His vision honed in on the back of Vash's neck, and as if he were a predator chasing down his lunch, Wolf bolted across the lawn, close on his heels.

Vash hadn't broken a sweat. He looked over at Wolf and smiled. "Wow, you're pretty fast!"

"Don't—patronize—me—you—" Wolf couldn't get enough air to finish his insult. He was running on fumes, his lungs threatening to burst.

"We should race sometime," Vash mused, loping effortlessly ahead.

"I thought—this was—a race!"

"Oh?" Vash raised his eyebrows. "I guess I'd better run for real, then!" And he dashed forward at a new, impossible pace, leaving Wolf in the dust.

"What—the—_hell!_" Wolf screamed. He veered like an unbalanced bicycle and collapsed in the grass, wheezing. A series of ragged coughs ripped through his chest, shaking his entire frame.

Vash looped around and jogged back to him, gazing down with worried eyes. "You should really stop smoking, Wolf. That sounds horrible."

He offered his hand, but Wolf shoved it away. "Shut your goddamn mouth," he growled hoarsely. "How the hell can you run so fast?"

"I've had a lot of practice. It's no big deal. You shouldn't be embarrassed if you can't keep up."

"I'm not embarrassed," Wolf shot back, his face flaring. "Besides, I gave you a head start. If I hadn't just pulled an all-nighter, you'd be the one on the ground."

Vash steadied Wolf by the elbow as he stood up. "I'm sure you're right. Next time, I'll be sorry."

Wolf suspected he was being humored, but he played along, anyway. "We'll call it even if you buy me coffee."

"Deal! I'm not sharing my doughnuts, though."

They walked toward the library under a cloudy morning sky. Wolf wondered what it was about this guy that made him feel like he was worth something, like he belonged somewhere. He couldn't place his finger on any single quality. It was Vash telling jokes while they waited in line, it was Vash smiling when he caught Wolf's reflection in the library window, it was Vash eating doughnuts and asking about the kids at school, it was Vash hiding under Wolf's jacket as the rain began to fall on their way to the dorm. And now more than any time in his life, Wolf felt like he was home.


	7. Once, She Was Here

**SPOILER ALERT:** **This chapter parallels certain events that ****occur in Volume Seven of Trigun Maximum. If you haven't read those chapters yet (but intend to), please don't ruin it for yourself!** **Proceed at your own risk.**

* * *

><p><em>When I remember those days, I picture the three of us. Rem, Nigh, and me. Sitting under the apple tree in the backyard, or reading books in the library, or drawing pictures on the sidewalk. Helping Rem bake cookies at Christmas. Planting flowers with her in the spring. Geraniums, the red ones, were her favorites. "Red is the color of life," she told us. "When I look at this flower, it reminds me to keep on living. Flowers are so small and fragile, yet so determined. If they can survive, then so can I."<em>

_ I wouldn't understand what she meant until later. Back then, there was no need to worry about things like survival. We had each other, and that was all that mattered._

* * *

><p>"Vash? Are you asleep?"<p>

He turned his head on the pillow to face the twin bed across the room. "Not anymore."

"Sorry." The room was dark, but Vash could just make out Nigh's sheepish smile. "I keep thinking about tomorrow. What do you think Rem is planning?"

"I don't know." Vash stretched his arms over his head. "Last year she took us fishing, but I didn't like that."

"Yeah, I remember. You sure did cry a lot."

"Shut up. You didn't have fun, either."

"Only because _someone_ threw all my worms out of the boat."

Vash closed his eyes, wanting a change of subject. "Maybe she'll bake a cake."

"I hope not. Remember the one she made when we turned seven?" Nigh giggled, then fell silent for a minute. "Do you think Mom and Dad will be there?"

Something twisted in Vash's stomach. "I wouldn't count on it," he said after a pause. "They usually have work."

Nigh's voice was quiet. "I know. But…maybe this time…"

"Hey." Vash sat up in his bed so that Nigh could see him. "We look after each other, right? And Rem looks after us. That's all we need." He lowered himself down again, pulling the blanket up to his chin. "We're actually pretty lucky, when you think about it."

Nigh didn't seem comforted. He tossed and turned a few times, then said, "Do you think Rem's ever going to leave us?"

Another pain inside, this time worse. "One day when we're older, probably," he whispered.

He heard a sniffle from Nigh's side of the room, and his own eyes began to sting. Vash swallowed back the tears. "That won't be for a long time, Nigh."

"And we'll still have each other, right? You're not going to leave me."

"Never," Vash promised. "We're brothers, aren't we? Now, get some sleep."

"Okay." Nigh exhaled shakily, and soon his breathing grew soft and slow. Vash lay awake for a long time. When he finally drifted off, worrying about Rem and about being alone, his sleep was a fitful one.

He dreamed that he was being led by the hand down a long, white hallway. The person who walked before him was a little girl about his age, only slightly taller. Her hair was the same color as his and Nigh's.

"Where are you taking me?" Vash asked.

The girl turned her head. Her eyes were the same color as theirs, too. She said nothing, placing her finger on her lips and gesturing for him to follow.

Vash felt more afraid the further they ventured into the corridor. It reminded him of the place where his parents worked, where they went to visit Dr. Conrad when they were sick. He wanted to go home. He was about to beg the little girl to turn around when a door opened and a tall person stepped out, grabbing the girl's other hand.

"Tesla! What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be in bed."

The woman had slender hands, strong arms, long dark hair. Vash knew that voice anywhere. "Rem!" he cried out, but she didn't seem to notice him.

"Let's get you back to your room," Rem said as she guided the little girl through the door. The girl's hand slipped out of Vash's, and he followed after them. "Wait!"

Rem didn't hear him. She took the young girl, Tesla, to a small room with what looked like an operating table, surrounded by tubes and machinery. Rem lifted the girl onto the table and buckled a strap around her wrist. "You're getting smarter every day," Rem said with a smile. "Pretty soon you'll be running the lab."

She stroked Tesla's hair for a moment, hiding her face. Then she strapped down the girl's other wrist and eased her head toward the pillow. "I'm sorry," Rem said, lifting a syringe from the tool tray and wiping Tesla's arm with a cotton swab. "This will hurt a little."

Vash winced as he watched the needle sink into the vein, but Tesla barely reacted. Rem attached another needle to an IV tube and inserted it into the back of Tesla's hand. She sat beside the girl for a long time after that, and Vash thought he saw a tear slide down Rem's cheek.

The door swung open, and three other adults walked into the room. Vash shuffled out of the way to avoid being trampled.

"There you are, Rem. We've been looking all over." Vash recognized his mother's voice. She was wearing the same white coat that she usually wore to work, but her face looked different somehow. Less tired, more cheerful.

His father was there, too. "How is the subject doing?"

Rem brushed her tears away rapidly. "She's stable. But I think we should hold off on any more testing today."

"Is that your medical opinion, Ms. Saverem?" The third voice belonged to Dr. Conrad. Without the beard, Vash didn't realize it was him until he spoke.

"It's my personal opinion, doctor." Rem cast him a grave look. "I leave the medical side of it up to you."

Dr. Conrad leaned over the operating table, examining Tesla's small body. "I want you to remember," he said to Rem, "what I told you when you first came onboard with this project. We cannot allow our hearts to steer our reason. This is not a child you are looking at, Ms. Saverem, it is a test subject. And it's our greatest success so far."

Vash's mother smiled at Rem. "We all love Tesla," she said. "You don't have to worry about that."

"What we're doing will benefit humanity for years to come," Vash's father said. "Tesla is the key to our future."

Rem nodded hesitantly. She stepped aside as Dr. Conrad checked Tesla's pulse, and Vash's parents took readings from a set of monitors. "Resting heart rate, one-thirty. Demonstrates the usual tachycardia." The doctor shined a light in Tesla's eyes, prodded her mouth open with a tongue depressor. "Subject reacts to visual and auditory stimuli. Continued treatment with intravenous steroids remains effective."

They attached sensors to her skull, flicked on another screen, made notes on a clipboard. "Brain patterns display accelerated executive functioning, as we've seen in the past. Cognitive activity at rest seems abnormally high." More sensors, more needles, more tubes shuttling fluids into the girl's tiny frame. "Beginning second round of hormone injections," the doctor said, and then a piercing electronic shriek came from one of the machines.

"What's wrong?" Rem flew to the doctor's side. "Tesla!"

The girl's body was convulsing, raging against the straps holding her down. Rem reached for her hand, but Dr. Conrad shoved her away. "Administer oxygen and glucose. Keep your head on your shoulders, Rem."

Rem's hands shook as she attached the oxygen mask to Tesla's face. Foam spurted from the girl's mouth and dribbled down her chin. Vash huddled in the corner of the room, his eyes wide with fear.

"Heart rate one-forty-five," his mother called from the monitor.

Tesla shook uncontrollably. One of the needles pulled loose and blood sprayed out of the tube. Red, the color of life. The color of Rem's flowers. "Hold her down!" the doctor shouted, tearing open a sterilized bag and filling a syringe.

"She's burning up," Rem cried.

"Heart rate one-sixty and rising!"

Dr. Conrad plunged the syringe into Tesla's thigh. Vash's father struggled to hold the girl still, but even with the three of them pinning her to the table, they couldn't stop her from shaking. Vash covered his ears and shut his eyes, whimpering. _Make it stop. Rem, please…_

He heard the long, flat beep from the machine, heard the table stop rattling, heard the panicked voices of the adults as they did everything they could to save her. But he knew all too well what was happening. For some reason, it felt like his own memory was being replayed in front of him. Yet he'd never seen the girl before in his entire life. What was going on?

When Vash finally dared to open his eyes, Tesla was no longer moving. The machines had been switched off, and the room was still and quiet. Rem was the first to speak.

"She's gone."

Dr. Conrad cleared his throat. "Time of death, eight-fifty-three A.M…"

"She's _dead_ and we _killed her._"

"Due to unknown circumstances, possibly shock induced by ongoing tests…"

"This didn't have to happen. She was a _child,_ doctor. A human child."

"Rem." Vash's father stepped in, placing his hand on Rem's shoulder. "We know how close you were to Tesla. It isn't over, though. There is still much that we can learn—"

"I've learned enough." Rem wrenched away from him. "I've learned never to let this happen again. It was wrong from the start."

"I agree with Rem," Vash's mother said. "Our methods have been…dishonorable. Tesla's sacrifice is proof of that. But we cannot let her sacrifice be in vain. We must strive toward a better future…for her sake…"

They traded solemn glances through tear-filled eyes. Then the doctor said, "We will preserve the body for further study. We will seek to understand our failures, so that we may again succeed. And one day, when the time is right, we will make another." He paused. "If Ms. Saverem wishes to depart our company, she may do so now. No questions asked."

Vash's mother and father joined hands with Dr. Conrad. After a long silence, Rem's hands completed the circle.

The three of them looked down at the lifeless body on the table, and everything faded to black.

* * *

><p>Vash woke up crying. He heard strained, muffled sobs coming from the other side of the room, and he turned to see Nigh staring up at the ceiling, trembling.<p>

"Did you have the same dream?" Vash asked.

Nigh didn't say a word, but the answer was clear on his face.

"That girl…Tesla…" Vash felt the tears crawling down his cheeks, soaking his pillow. "She was our _sister_, wasn't she?"

Nigh's sobs grew louder. Vash dug his fingers into the blankets. "Why…Rem, why did she…"

And then he screamed. He couldn't hear the noise he was making, but he could feel it, as though someone were tearing the sound from his throat. He kept seeing Tesla's face, seeing the blood, the needles. He kept seeing Dr. Conrad and Rem and his Mom and Dad prying that little girl apart until there was nothing left of her, the life gone out of her eyes, a test subject, an experiment…

"Vash!" The bedroom door burst open and Rem flipped the light switch. "What happened? What's wrong?"

She came toward him with her arms outstretched. Vash kicked her hard in the ribs and scrambled out of bed, backing into a corner. Rem doubled over, the wind knocked out of her.

"Get out of here!" Vash yelled. "Leave us alone!"

Rem pressed her hand to her stomach, struggling to breathe. "It's okay, Vash," she managed to gasp. "You just had a nightmare."

"_Stop lying to me!_" Vash picked up a lamp from the nightstand and hurled it at her. Rem had no time to dodge, the bulb shattering as the lamp stand struck her shoulder. Bits of glass clung to her hair, and tiny drops of blood appeared on her face. "How long were you going to keep it a secret?" Vash demanded. "_How long, Rem?"_

The fear registered in Rem's eyes. "You…how did you…"

"She showed us," Vash said. "Tesla showed us what you did to her. What all of you did."

He was crying again. Rem dropped to her knees, the usual strength in her voice replaced with raw horror, tremulous defeat. "I'm so sorry, Vash. Nigh. I don't understand how... I wanted to tell you both. I was going to tell you."

"Why should I believe anything you say? If you're sorry, then why didn't you save Tesla?"

"Stop it." Rem's face went stone cold. "Not another word. You have no idea what I went through to protect that girl. The things that I gave up. My morals, my principles, they were just like yours, Vash. And for what? In the end, all I could do was watch as she died." Rem ran a shaky hand over her scalp, closing her eyes tightly. "There's not a day that goes by that I don't blame myself for what happened. But I have to tell myself that I did everything in my power to watch over her. Just as I watch over the two of you."

Vash couldn't stand to look at her. He felt disgusted, betrayed. He _hated_ her. And yet…

"What…what _are_ we, Rem? Why did they say Tesla wasn't human?"

Rem folded her hands between her knees, choosing her words with care. "You and Nigh are one of a kind, Vash. So was Tesla. You're children—" She cast her gaze from Vash to Nigh. "_Human_ children, with human hearts and minds. But you were made in a special way. Your DNA, your genes, your cell structure—everything that makes you _you_—were created synthetically. Before Tesla came along, scientists had only done this on a small scale. They knew they could create functioning organs, parts of people...but never a living, breathing person. Tesla was the very first. Then came you and Nigh—twins. They said it was a miracle."

She smiled, but her eyes were sad. Vash tried to put the pieces together in his head, to no avail. "I don't understand."

Rem inched closer to him. "Do you remember the sign on your parents' office door? 'Project Seeds?'"

Vash nodded once.

"I heard about that project when I was in college, about fifteen years ago. I'd just lost someone close to me, and I was thinking about dropping out. Then I read an article about a new independent research group, how they'd just discovered a way to create entirely artificial forms of life. They called it Project Seeds. The press hadn't released any information beyond this, but I was desperate to know more. For the first time in a long time, I was passionate about something. I wanted to be a part of it. So I tracked down Dr. Conrad, and I told him everything that was in my heart. How I'd studied synthetic biology in hopes of making this very same breakthrough. How excited I was when I'd read the release, so much that it gave me a new purpose to live, so much that I travelled across the country to seek them out. I guess I made a good impression, because the doctor told your parents about me. They hired me as an intern, and a few months later they welcomed me onto the project team.

"When I met Tesla, she was already about your age. On the surface, she looked like a healthy young girl, but I soon noticed that she was very weak. The scientists kept her confined to a room in the lab at all times, and they performed tests on her almost daily. I asked Dr. Conrad how long this had been going on, and he seemed surprised. Tesla had been a test subject since the day she was created. They wanted me to see her as just that: an experiment. She had lived her entire life under surveillance, how could she know any different? That's what I tried to tell myself. But the more I saw, the more disturbed I felt."

She gave Vash and Nigh a pleading look. "I don't think your parents are bad people. Everything they did, they were convinced it was for the good of humankind. They said they loved her..." Rem brushed at her eyes. "They wanted her to be the very best. They spoke about her as if she were a god. Tesla was highly intelligent, more than any child I'd ever met. But her body was wasting away in that lab. Your parents––her parents––they'd engineered her brain to function so well, without giving her body a chance to catch up. I didn't know what to think. Part of me had thought so highly of them, while part of me wanted to turn and run. But Tesla...she was so trusting. I had become too fond of her to leave, yet I hated to stand by and watch her die. No one listened to my arguments to halt the experiments. My words were nothing compared to theirs. And I guess you know what happened after that."

Rem shut her eyes for a long time, then opened them slowly. "Maybe I should have left. I wonder what would have happened if I'd reported them to someone I trusted, if anyone would have stopped them. I knew they were going try again. They were going to make another child. I stayed because I wanted to protect that child from the injustice that Tesla had gone through. Dr. Conrad was on my side this time, and we implemented new changes. A home for the child to grow up in. A family to look after them. Minimal testing with non-invasive procedures. And when the two of you came along..." Her face broke into another sad smile. "I knew that I'd made the right choice. I promised I would care for you both as long as I lived."

Vash felt as if a vacuum had opened up inside him and swallowed everything whole. He watched Rem, expecting to feel something like anger or hatred or despair, but all he felt was the nothingness.

"Mom and Dad," he said. "They're not even our real parents, are they? We don't have real parents."

Rem edged forward another few inches. She was almost close enough to reach out and touch him. "They were the ones who created you. And they raised you as parents would. We all did."

Vash pulled his knees up to his chin, flinching away from her. "You lied to us."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to protect you. I didn't want you to feel the same pain I felt when..."

"Stop. Go away." Vash tucked his head under his arms. "_Leave. Us. Alone._"

"Vash..."

The feelings came flooding in with renewed intensity, and Vash leapt to his feet. "I hate you, Rem! _I hate you! I hate you!_"

Rem blinked, startled, but she regained her composure quickly. "Yes," she said in a quiet voice. "I know."

She reached down and swept the broken glass into the palm of her hand, placed the lamp on the nightstand, and paused a moment at Nigh's bedside before going to the door. Nigh hadn't moved or spoken a word since he'd awakened. Rem looked like she wanted to tuck him in or kiss him goodnight, the things she usually did when they couldn't sleep, but she turned to leave instead. "I'll let you get some rest," she said. "Tomorrow we can talk some more."

Vash never wanted to speak to her again. He ignored her goodbyes, staring at the pictures on the opposite wall. Photographs of the twins with the parents who weren't their parents. Pictures Rem had drawn with them. When her footsteps had faded down the stairs, Vash took the pictures out of their frames and ripped them to shreds. He collapsed on the floor next to Nigh's bed and pressed his face into the mattress.

"You're the only family I have," Vash whispered, tears soaking the cloth around his cheeks.

If it wasn't for Nigh, he would have broken the glass from the frame and cut himself open, tied a bedsheet around his neck, jumped out the window headfirst. Ended the life that should never have been formed. But he couldn't leave his brother alone in that place, with those people. So he watched over him all night. He locked the door to their room. And when he finally did let Rem inside again, two days later, he stood in front of Nigh like a bodyguard. He half listened to Rem as she talked about her past, her family, the people she loved. He made sure Nigh ate the food that she brought them, though he refused it for himself. He was planning to leave. He was planning to get both of them out, for good. Somewhere away from people, away from evil. Somewhere Nigh would be safe.

He didn't know that Nigh had plans of his own.

* * *

><p>The house was on fire.<p>

Vash blinked his eyes. He was alone in the room, in the dark. The smell of smoke hung in the air. An orange glow lit the doorframe.

"Nigh?" Vash called, clambering down from the bed. "Where are you?"

He heard a knocking sound to his right, and turned to see Nigh perched on the windowsill, his finger pressed to his lips.

"You'll fall!" Vash cried. But when he came closer, he saw that Nigh had taken hold of a tree branch outside the window.

Vash glanced over his shoulder at the growing haze of smoke, the muffled roar of flames curling around the doorframe. Nigh was right. There was only one way out.

He held onto Nigh's arm to steady him as his brother climbed into the tree, then Vash followed after him. They made their way down the trunk, branch by branch. Vash didn't realize how hot it had been inside the house until he landed in the cool wet grass of the lawn. He stepped back a few paces and looked up at the place that was once their home, the fire encroaching up the walls and bursting from the windows.

Nigh grabbed his sleeve and pulled him toward the woods.

"Wait!" Vash shouted. "We need to find Rem! We need to call for help!"

He lunged against his brother's grip, but Nigh clamped down on his arm and pushed him further away from the house, away from the street, into the darkness.

"Nigh, what are you doing?" Vash yelled.

"What do you think?" Nigh answered through gritted teeth. He hadn't spoken in weeks, and his voice was raw, unfamiliar. Frightening. Then Vash saw the heavy backpack on Nigh's shoulders, and it dawned on him. This was their chance, wasn't it? This was their escape. But...

"We have to go back, Nigh! This isn't right!"

Nigh tilted his head. "I thought you wanted to leave."

"I do-I did. But not like this. They could be hurt—"

"Who? 'Mom' and 'Dad?' Why should we care what happens to them?" Nigh's face twisted up the way it did when he was about to cry. "They're murderers, Vash! They killed our sister!"

"Rem says—"

"Rem is just as bad as they are! You saw her in the dream, didn't you? How long do you think it would take for her to tell them what we know? How long before they killed us, too?"

"She wouldn't let that happen," Vash argued, and though he'd doubted her promise before, he found that he truly did believe it.

Nigh shook his head and dragged Vash behind him, to the edge of the woods. "We don't have time for this. We need to get moving."

"Vash?" A faint voice echoed over the lawn. "Nigh?"

The grip on Vash's arm loosened, and Vash broke free. "Rem!" he screamed. "Over here!"

Nigh leaped on his back and threw him to the ground. The impact shattered through Vash, his face striking the earth and the taste of blood filling his mouth. He struggled to lift his head. In the distance, between splotches of darkness that threatened to overtake his vision, he saw Rem run into the house, shielding her face with her arm and calling their names.

"_Rem!_" Vash cried with all the breath he had left. "_No! Come back!_"

His screams were muted by Nigh's hand smothering his mouth. Vash wrenched around onto his side, thrashing wildly. He got in one good kick, and crawled away as Nigh staggered backward. "_REM! REM! RE—_"

One last hit from Nigh's elbow in the back of his neck, and Vash fell unconscious.

* * *

><p>When he opened his eyes, the sun was shining. He was in a quiet forest, green leaves whispering in the faint breeze. Nigh sat watching him from atop a fallen trunk.<p>

"How are you feeling?" Nigh asked.

At first, Vash couldn't remember what had happened. He thought maybe they were on a camping trip with Rem. Then he sat up, and the pain pulsed in the back of his head, and he remembered Nigh pushing him down and the fire and the broken lamp and the little girl lying on the operating table, and he knew. He knew.

Ignoring Nigh's first question, he asked, "Where are we?"

"I don't know." Nigh cast his eyes around the trees. "As far as I could get with the pack and you on my back."

Vash glanced over at the heavy backpack that Nigh had taken from the house. Some of its contents were spread out on the ground. Cans of food, a pocketknife, bottles of water. And lying on the fallen tree trunk next to Nigh, a black handgun.

"Nigh," Vash began, his voice strained in shock. "What is that?"

A wry smile from his brother. "Come on, Vash. Don't you remember when we snuck into 'Mom' and 'Dad's' room, that day when they weren't home? Remember what we found?"

"You shouldn't have touched it, Nigh! That's dangerous!"

Nigh laughed humorlessly. "Of course it's dangerous, that's the point. How do you think two kids are going to protect themselves without a weapon? I swear, you're starting to sound like Rem."

At the mention of Rem's name, Vash flew into a fury. He grabbed Nigh's shoulders and forced him to the ground, reaching a fist back to hit him. "You_ bastard_! You ruined everything!" He punched Nigh in the face, so hard that his fist hurt. "I was going to get us out of there! We shouldn't have left everyone to die! And now Rem-she never got out, did she? Tell me what happened to her!"

Nigh sniffed, blood leaking from his nose. "Relax, idiot. No one's going to find out we did it. I planned everything from the start."

The truth washed over Vash like a wave knocking him off his feet. He could hardly breathe. "You...started that fire. Nigh. Didn't you."

Only a calm stare in return. Not a trace of denial. Vash could hear the raging sound coming out of his own throat, hear the heartbeat pounding in his head, but he felt faraway, as if he were watching someone else beat his brother to a pulp, listening to someone else's screams of _You killed her! You're a murderer! _and seeing someone else grab the gun and point it at Nigh's head, ready to pull the trigger.

"You hypocrite," Nigh said with disgust, his eyes swollen and watery. "All your talk about saving people, and this is what it comes down to?" His bloody lips cracked a smile. "Go ahead and shoot if you want. I wouldn't blame you. One murder deserves another, right?"

The barrel of the gun wavered in Vash's shaking hands. His throat was so tight that he thought it might close up completely. Then his eyes blurred and he broke down in painful sobs. His arms went limp, and Nigh gently pried the gun out of his hand and set it aside.

"You said we'd always look after each other," Nigh reminded him. "As long as we have each other, that's all that matters."

Vash leaned against Nigh's shoulder as they both rose to their feet. Nigh was right, he was a hypocrite. He had been prepared to kill his own brother because his brother killed Rem. And all because of what happened to Tesla. Where would it end? When would justice be served? Would any of them be left, at the finish?

He watched Nigh with a mixture of care and suspicion, loyalty and distrust. For the first time in his life, Vash felt a rift between them, a difference of nature so strong that it seemed capable of tearing them apart. But from that day on, they would have to rely on each other to survive. So Vash followed Nigh deeper into the world they'd never known, a vast and frightening wilderness of shadows and traps, and people.

* * *

><p>They managed to ration out the food for several weeks. Finding water was a greater challenge, because they rarely ventured into the populous towns and cities that marked the steps of their journey. But as weeks gave way to months, as their pack ran out and the nights grew colder, they became more and more desperate. And thus, more careless.<p>

Vash had been insisting that they move closer to the streets of the nearby town. It was warmer there, and there were people in the houses who might give them food. Nigh refused to listen, until one night he awoke to find the pack missing and Vash heading down the hill, toward the streetlights.

"What are you doing?" Nigh demanded, running to catch up.

"I'm going to have a look around. If you're afraid, then you can stay here."

Nigh opened his mouth to protest, but Vash's determination had passed the point of dispute. He crept after his brother reluctantly, nerves on edge, as they descended into the town.

The street was all but empty at this hour. Businesses had closed for the day, and Vash and Nigh had some success raiding the dumpsters behind restaurants and convenience stores. An outdoor park had running water fountains, and one of the public restrooms had been left unlocked. They took advantage of the sinks and paper towels to wash off the grime that had been accumulating for weeks, the warm water an unexpected luxury on their skin.

"See?" Vash said with a smile. "I told you this was a good idea."

Nigh shook his wet hair so the water sprayed Vash's face, and laughed.

Vash was pulling his shirt back on when he heard the low rumble of a car engine, just outside the door. He looked over to see Nigh frozen in fear, his hair still dripping.

"It's all right," Vash assured him. "Probably someone came to lock up. We'll say we're sorry and leave, no big deal."

He reached for the pack, and the door swung open. A tall man strode inside, his pants already unzipped, and reeled to a stop when he noticed the two small boys staring up at him. His unshaven face molded into an ugly smile. "Well, what do we have here? Kinda late for you kids to be out all alone, ain't it?"

"We're not alone," Nigh replied instantly. "Our parents are waiting for us outside."

The man took a step toward him, looming over Nigh like a vulture. "That sure is a relief. Wouldn't want their little honor students getting into any trouble." He turned to Vash. "But I didn't see nobody outside. How about you two wait in my car until they come and pick you up?"

Vash wrinkled his nose. The man's breath reeked worse than his did. "I don't think so," he said. "We're going to leave, now."

Nigh started to sneak out behind him, but the man reached around and grabbed him by the arm. Vash saw Nigh grimace in pain, and cold fear surged through him.

"That doesn't sound like such a great idea to me," the man said. "Couple of little boys running around on their own, nobody to look after 'em. I've got a better idea. You both come home with me, and I'll give you something to eat. Look like you haven't had nothing to eat in a while, right? Now, tell me the truth."

Vash chanced a look in the man's eyes. For a moment, he seemed so sincere that Vash wondered if he'd misjudged him. But when the man reached out for him, Vash stepped back. With a reflex so quick it surprised him, Vash slid his hand into the pack and took out the gun, aiming it at the man's chest.

The man burst out laughing. "Where the hell'd you get that, son? Give it here before you hurt yourself."

Vash removed the safety and pulled back the slide, rehearsing what Nigh had shown him. _I'm not going to shoot him. I'm going to scare him away._

The man's expression grew concerned as the slide clicked into place, the chamber loaded, and Vash stared down the sight with both hands steadying his aim. "Hey now, I'm serious," the man said. "Hand it over, kid."

"Shoot him, Vash!" Nigh screamed, elbowing the man's shoulder and trying to break free. The man grabbed him and locked him in both arms, shielding himself with Nigh's body.

Vash raised the sight to the man's eyes. "Let him go. Let us leave."

"Kid. Vash, that's your name?" The man swallowed, his grip on Nigh tightening. "Look, I don't want you to get hurt. Put that gun on the floor, okay? It's dangerous."

"Don't listen to him!" Nigh yelled, fighting as the man tried to stifle his screams. "Just pull the trigger! He wants to hurt us!"

A sick feeling rose in Vash's throat. "I don't want to kill him, Nigh. We don't know who he is."

The man's eyes widened, and he nodded furiously. "Th—that's right!" he stammered in Nigh's ear. "Listen to your brother!"

"No!" Nigh thrashed in the man's arms. "Shoot already, Vash! It doesn't matter if it hits me, just fire the gun and get out of here!"

Then Nigh bit down on the man's hand and wriggled under his arm, slipping and falling on the hard tile. The man let out a yelp, flailing his arm at Vash, reaching for the gun and missing, his hand closing on Vash's right arm instead. He yanked Vash's wrist down, and with a startled cry, Vash squeezed the trigger with his left hand.

A flash of light, a deafening explosion, and Vash fell backward in a hot red spray of blood. The recoil kicked his elbow back so hard that the gun flew out of his hand. The man hovered on his knees, spasming and choking on the blood that gushed from his neck with a horrible sound that Vash felt rather than heard. The body jerked forward and landed on Vash, crushing his legs.

Vash lay shuddering on the floor, eyes unblinking. The ringing in his ears was slowly replaced by Nigh's voice. "Can you hear me, Vash? Are you okay?"

His arm hurt. His legs hurt. There was blood on the ceiling. How?

"We have to go." Nigh's arms were hooked under his shoulders, dragging him out from underneath the dead man. A thick red pool oozed along the tile, smeared by Vash's shoes.

He began to cry. And then he began to scream.

Nigh dropped to his knees beside Vash and hugged him, pressing Vash's face into his sleeve. Vash was inconsolable, his cries barely muffled by Nigh's embrace. "Stop it!" Nigh begged. "Come on, Vash, we can't do this. Get on your feet and let's go."

Vash shoved him away. He'd spotted the gun on the floor, and he crawled after it, still loaded, he could still do it, fumbling with the slide and pointing it into his mouth, both thumbs on the trigger—

"_Vash!_" Nigh tore the gun from his hands and pinned him down, the weapon skittering across the floor. "No. No no no no no…"

"I killed him," Vash whimpered, "I didn't want—I didn't want to—"

"You had no choice. You did the right thing."

"Let me go!" Vash tried to hurl himself toward the gun again, but Nigh held him back.

"Please," Nigh said. "Listen to me. I can't let you go. I need you here. You saved my life, don't you realize that? You saved both of us. Now, we're going to get up and run far away, but I need you to be quiet and do what I ask. You won't even have to look. Okay? Just close your eyes."

Vash stared at Nigh's calm face, then obeyed. A minute or two passed, and his shallow breathing deepened slightly, his fists unclenched. Nigh helped him stand up and told him to wait. Vash listened as Nigh unloaded the gun, took something out of the pack, ran the faucet, closed up the pack again. He remembered a trick Rem had taught him once, and began counting down from one hundred, pausing for a breath between each number. He continued to count as Nigh led him out the door and into the cold night air, _Eighty-five, eighty-four,_ the car's engine still running, waiting while Nigh opened the door, cut the ignition, closed the door, _Seventy-two, seventy-one,_ Nigh holding his hand as they tiptoed through the grass of the park, then pavement, then grass again, _Forty, thirty-nine,_ and now they were running up a hill, the familiar crunch of twigs and dead leaves underfoot, all the way into the deep woods, _Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight,_ until they were both out of breath and the forest surrounded them on all sides and the smell of the city was gone, _Zero,_ and Vash opened his eyes.

Nigh was bent over with both hands on his knees, exhausted and gasping for air, but he still managed a slight smile when he saw Vash's face. "I'm proud of you," he said.

They only rested a few minutes before moving on again. When they were miles away, the sky lit by a timid gray dawn, Vash washed the man's blood from his face with his ruined shirt and burned the clothes in their campfire, wearing the only spare rags they had left. Nigh had fallen asleep by the warm embers, and Vash sat staring at the wispy smoke until an hour passed and he knew they needed to keep moving.

That's when he looked down and realized he'd been scratching his left wrist with his fingernails, so hard that it bled.

* * *

><p>Vash blinked his eyes. They felt dry, his eyelids heavy. The screensaver on his laptop whirled in and out of focus, lazy blobs of color on a black background. His earphones were in, but no music was playing.<p>

He noticed Wolf standing beside him, watching his face expectantly. Vash took the earphones out. "I'm sorry. Did you say something?"

"I said you've been staring at that screensaver for over an hour."

Vash looked back at the screen. He didn't remember when he'd sat down at the desk, or what he'd been doing.

"Are you feeling okay?" Wolf asked, leaning closer.

He wanted to let Wolf hug him, but the smell of smoke on his clothes made Vash pull away. Wolf's reaction was crushing. Vash tried desperately to smile, to shrug it off, his heart devastated. "Don't worry about me. Just a little spaced out, that's all."

A disbelieving pause. "If you say so," Wolf muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning to leave.

Vash listened to the door shut, the footsteps disappearing down the hall, half hoping that Wolf would change his mind and come back. The sound faded completely. Silence devoured the room. A familiar hollow sting dulled Vash's senses, weighed down his chest.

He pushed up his left sleeve and picked the bandage apart.


	8. Fragile

_The God I used to believe in was a distant one, so far away that I couldn't even picture what he looked like. From the very first day I was taken to Mass, I knew I didn't belong in the clean, holy sanctuary any more than my despicable father did. But I wanted to belong. I wanted God to hear me. So I knelt when they told me to kneel, repeated the phrases they told me to repeat. And hoped that God would answer my prayers._

_ I wish that he had, because maybe then I'd have some proof. I'd know what to believe. These days, I can't make sense of anything, and that's what scares me the most._

* * *

><p>Wolf hadn't realized how fast the semester was slipping away until he noticed the calendar hanging in his advisor's office. Already two days into November. With dwindling grades in all his classes, and midterms on the horizon, Wolf had been too busy to recognize the change of season. When had the last leaves fallen? When had the winter snuck in?<p>

Over the past several weeks, Wolf had spent most of his time trying to keep Vash from hurting himself. He didn't like to leave Vash alone for very long, and as a result he ran late to work and missed class on a regular basis. His advisor had called him in for a meeting about his future, which he'd been dreading all afternoon.

"Sorry about the wait," Professor Midvalley apologized as he shuffled into his office, balancing a steaming mug of coffee atop a precarious-looking stack of books and file folders. He closed the door with his foot and lowered the stack onto his desk, talking the whole time. "Just got this shipment of textbooks in, can you believe it? They're like, ten weeks late. You make one easy request around here, and that's what happens." He flopped down in the desk chair and loosened his tie, taking a loud sip of coffee. "Okay, what did I call you in here for?"

"You wanted to discuss my future."

"Oh, yeah. Hang on a minute, let me dig up your file."

Midvalley was one of the adjunct professors in the School of Philosophy, a fairly young man who attempted to fit in with the students more than the faculty. Wolf had heard rumors that he played the saxophone in a bad Kenny G tribute band on the weekends. Various musical instruments lay scattered around his unkempt office, and a lava lamp burbled in the corner. Wolf wondered how long this meeting was going to take.

"So, Wolf. You've been missing a lot of classes. Want to tell me why? Don't worry, I won't judge. I did my fair share of time in the frat house, too. 'Bro.'"

He said it with finger quotes. Wolf tried not to wince. "Um, it's nothing like that. There's a lot going on at work, and...I guess it's just hard to keep up."

"Man, I know the feeling. But you know, if your job's getting in the way of your studies, both of them are going to suffer. Amelia says you've been late almost every day. Maybe it's time to think about dropping something."

Wolf bit his lip, wedging his hands under his knees. What business did this guy have talking to Amelia about his work performance, telling him what to do? "I'm already taking the minimum class load," Wolf said. "And I can't afford to stay in school without my job."

Midvalley leaned back in the chair with his feet on the desk. "What about your weekends? You don't have to finish practicum until your senior year. Why don't you put that off for a while?"

"No," Wolf replied, a little too harshly, his temper cut short by anxiety and lack of sleep. "I can't. I've been mentoring Shepherd for over a year. Nobody else wants to work with him."

"I see." Midvalley tented his hands and looked up at the ceiling. "The thing is, Wolf, some of the people over at the church are feeling a little—uncomfortable? About you. Now, I'm the one who wrote your recommendation letter so you could volunteer there, which means I've got to take the fall for your actions. And I'm not saying you've done anything wrong, but there's been talk about a certain friend of yours, that guy who follows you around everywhere, you know the one I'm talking about?"

Wolf narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure I like what you're implying."

"Hey," Midvalley said, raising his hands, "I'm not implying anything. Far be it from me to judge a man by his…whatever. I'm just saying, maybe you should think about the kind of example you're setting for all those little kids you hang around with."

At this, Wolf pushed his chair back and stood up. "Is that what you called me in here for? To lecture me about setting an example? Because, I'm sorry, but I think this is a waste of time."

"Look, I'm not doing this for fun, either. Being an academic advisor wasn't exactly my first career choice. But here we both are. It's my job to make sure you stay on track for your degree, and that's all I'm trying to do."

Wolf nodded dismissively. "Fine. I think you've done your job. So, unless you've got something important to say, I'm going to go finish writing a paper."

He left the office before Midvalley could say anything else. There was no way that discussion would have ended well. Besides, the evening was closing in quickly, and he needed about ten more cigarettes before could face whatever awaited him at Chapel Hall.

* * *

><p>Neko the cat was prowling outside the dormitory when Wolf returned from a detour to the convenience store. He shifted the plastic bags in his arms and crouched down to offer his hand. The cat pushed its whiskers against his knuckles, purring.<p>

"Want to come inside?" Wolf asked, taking a can of tuna out of one of the bags as a bribe. "I've got your favorite. And I know someone who could use some cheering up."

He opened the door, and the cat trotted in after him. Millie, on desk duty in the atrium, giggled when she saw them.

"I wish I could get him to follow me around like that!" she said. "He makes you look sweet, Mr. Wolfwood."

Wolf didn't know what to make of this comment. _As if I don't always look sweet, _he thought sarcastically. "Where's Meryl tonight?" he asked, noticing Millie's lonely cup of pudding on the desk. "Don't you two usually eat dinner together?"

"She's in the lecture hall. Meryl never misses an extra credit opportunity." Millie rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Would you like to join me?"

"I wish I could," Wolf sighed. _What excuse this time?_ "Got to study for midterms."

Millie nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. I hope you and Mr. Vash can come hang out with us soon, though. It's been way too long. Meryl keeps saying she needs a better shootout partner—one who doesn't faint after the first two shots." She laughed. "Oh, that reminds me! I have some of Mr. Vash's artwork to give back. He got really good grades." Millie reached under the desk for her backpack, and took out a roll of paper secured with a rubber band. "How is he doing, by the way?"

Wolf tucked the paper under his arm, avoiding Millie's eyes. "Not too bad. I think it's just a bad case of the flu."

"He sure has been sick a lot this year! Tell him we miss him, okay?"

"Of course," Wolf said with a halfhearted smile.

He climbed the stairs with Neko on his heels, and leaned the load of groceries against the wall as he opened the door.

"Vash? Are you awake?"

The lights were turned off, so Wolf flipped the switch. Vash was sitting on the floor next to the space heater, a blanket over his shoulders and the hood of his jacket pulled up. Wolf set the plastic bags beside the desk and started to pry open the tuna can for Neko, who twirled around his ankles with anticipation.

"I brought you a companion," Wolf said, searching for any spark of interest in Vash's posture, in his mostly hidden face. Vash lifted his chin for a moment to watch the cat devour its dinner.

"That cat hates me," Vash mumbled.

Wolf cracked a smile. "Think of it as a bonding experience, then." He began to unpack some of the bags. "Did you eat anything today?"

Vash turned back to the heater. After a minute, he answered, "I don't remember."

"We have granola bars and sandwich stuff. Which would you like?"

No response.

"There's a doughnut in it for you if you eat something else first."

Another long pause. Then, "A sandwich, I guess."

Wolf unwrapped a loaf of bread and took out two slices. "Drink that soda, too," he said, nodding to a can on the floor. Vash picked it up, popping the tab unenthusiastically. Wolf unscrewed the cap on a jar of peanut butter and scooped it out with a plastic knife.

"Want to watch anything? Listen to some music?"

Vash shook his head. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair was dirty. Getting longer, too. A bristly beard traced his jawline, more noticeable every day. "You need a haircut," Wolf commented as he handed Vash the sandwich. "And a shave."

He tried to get a look at Vash's left wrist, but the blanket covered it up.

While Vash ate about one sixteenth of his dinner, Wolf showed him the roll of paper Millie had given them. "Got your drawings back. Millie says you did really well."

"I don't want to see it," Vash muttered.

"Can I look?"

A shrug.

Wolf took off the rubber band and unraveled the paper. Timid pencil lines crisscrossed the page, light and shadows. A still life. "This is amazing, Vash."

"It kind of sucks."

"Shut up. You should see me try to draw a stick figure." He studied the objects in the drawing, plants in a vase. "What kind of flowers are those?"

Vash didn't answer. The look on his face made Wolf think he'd done something wrong. He rolled the paper back up and laid it on the desk. Then he got an idea.

Lifting the unsuspecting Neko from the floor, Wolf held the squirming cat over top of Vash. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put this cat on your head."

"Wolf, please."

"My hands are slipping!" Neko meowed angrily, kicking at Vash's ear.

"Stop it. Come on."

"One good reason, Vash!" Wolf threatened, lowering the cat.

"Because," Vash growled, snorting a laugh and trying to hide it, "I'm going to do this!" He jabbed the back of Wolf's knees, then grabbed his ankles out from under him. Wolf toppled over backward, howling as he banged his elbow against the windowsill, and Neko flew into the air. The cat latched onto Vash's jacket, which sent him flailing in a fury. Wolf laughed until Vash sprang at him, freed from Neko's claws, and pinned Wolf's arms down with one hand, reaching the other under his shirt.

"No, wait, I'm sorry! Not that! _I'm sorry!_" Wolf yelped at the cold hand on his stomach, laughing to the point of tears. "_Stop it stop it stop!_"

"Maybe," Vash said, flipping his hand over for good measure, "you should give me one good reason."

Wolf yelled something unintelligible, writhing in painful laughter. When Vash finally let up and Wolf could breathe again, he noticed the grin on Vash's face and felt a wave of relief. For a moment, the life came back to his eyes, color returning to his cheeks. The smile was short-lived, though. Vash's strength seemed to diminish as soon as he realized he had any. He shifted away from Wolf and leaned against the bed, withdrawing into his personal darkness again. Wolf wanted nothing more than to hold him in his arms, but he'd felt Vash flinch at his touch one too many times to risk his pride. There was only so much rejection his heart could handle.

Instead, he stood up and fetched his shaving razor and soap, dropping a towel over Vash's head. "Let's go address that beard situation on your face," Wolf said.

He waited at the door while Vash reluctantly got up and then followed him down the hall, not bothering to remove the towel. A couple of times he bonked his head against the wall, and Wolf had to steer him around by the elbow. "You're the ghost of Chapel Hall," Wolf remarked, amused. "Not very good at walking through walls, though."

Wolf sat Vash down in front of the bathroom mirror and draped the towel around his neck. He saw Vash's eyes fix on the razor, and Wolf slid it into his pocket casually while he ran the faucet and worked the soap into a lather in his hands. He paused with his palms on Vash's face. The scruffy beard hid the hollow parts beneath his cheekbones, thinner than Wolf remembered. He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was.

"Look at that," Wolf said, clearing his throat to break the silence. "For once, you're actually starting to look your age." He took out the razor and ran the blade carefully up the side of Vash's face.

"You don't need to do this," Vash said quietly, his eyes downcast.

"Quit talking. You're gonna make me screw up."

He did a relatively good job until the end, when the blade slipped the wrong way and a small cut opened under Vash's chin. "Damn it," Wolf grumbled, reaching for a tissue. Vash stared at the blood in the mirror before Wolf covered it with the tissue and pressed down with his thumb to stop the bleeding. Then, giving into a sudden weakness, Wolf leaned in and kissed Vash on the corner of his jaw.

"…love you." Wolf only caught the last two syllables, in a mumble so soft that it might have been nothing, but from the way Vash hung onto Wolf's sleeve, not letting go or looking up, Wolf knew that he hadn't mistaken the meaning. He pretended to busy himself with scrubbing the towel over Vash's face, blushing furiously.

"Th—there," Wolf practically shouted. "Good as new."

Vash bent over the sink to rinse off. He dunked his head under the faucet until his hair was soaked, then stared at his reflection in the mirror, blinking water out of his eyes. Wolf smiled a little, the embarrassment wearing off. He ruffled Vash's wet hair so that it stuck straight up. "What do you think, Spiky?"

A faraway look came over Vash, a look that Wolf had begun to dread. It meant that Vash was in another place, somewhere Wolf was forbidden to trespass. But this time, Vash spoke up. "Rem used to do that," he said.

Wolf caught his gaze in the mirror. Vash had never talked openly about Rem before, though he still called her name some nights, in his sleep. Wolf tried to encourage him further. "I'd like to hear more about her."

Vash hunched his shoulders defensively, shaking his head. "There isn't much to say." He smoothed his hair down and dried it with the towel. Wolf could feel Vash slipping away from him again. _Wait,_ he wanted to say. _Come back. Stay with me a little longer._

It had been so long since he'd seen the friend he met on that first day of school. The Vash who smiled at everyone and laughed too loudly and ate too many doughnuts. The Vash who sang eighties songs with Millie and did shootouts with Meryl until he passed out. Then again, Wolf thought, the scars had always been there, hadn't they? The smoke had always bothered him. Maybe the Vash he recognized was just an act, a happy disguise. After countless weeks of the same hopeless routine, Wolf hadn't reached a better conclusion.

Professor Midvalley's words haunted him on the walk back to their room. _Maybe it's time to think about dropping something. That guy who follows you around everywhere, you know the one? Think about the kind of example you're setting for all those little kids._

He swallowed back the soreness in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut against the impending tears. There wasn't any time for this. Get a grip. Breathe normally.

Wolf held himself together until they reached the room. Then he felt Vash's hand on his shoulder, and he lost it. He covered his face with both hands, ashamed to be crying, ashamed to be noticed. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn't supposed to be so goddamn fragile.

Vash tugged at his shirt. "Wolf? Are you all right?"

He sniffed and wiped his face on his sleeve. "Yeah. It's nothing." He saw the tears in Vash's eyes, and laughed shakily. "Hey, cut that out. No fair stealing my thunder."

Wolf's last words were muffled, because Vash pulled him into an embrace so tight that he could hardly breathe. The initial shock was quickly replaced by warmth and comfort, and the unexpected urge to cry again because how many weeks had it been since this feeling of Vash's arms around him, this feeling of being wanted, of being necessary, of being alive? Wolf laid his head against the place where Vash's heart beat and willed the rest of the world to disappear.

Vash combed his hand through Wolf's hair and said, "You told me once that I didn't have to lie if I wasn't feeling okay. Do you think you have to lie to me?" Wolf's shoulders hitched, and Vash held him tighter. "I'm sorry. I've been dragging you down with me, and I didn't realize…what a burden I must be."

"No," Wolf replied, his voice raw. "It's not your fault. I just…I don't know what I'm doing anymore. With school or work or anything. I'm worried about Shepherd. I might lose my job. I'm having second thoughts about my major. And all this time, I've wanted to help you, but I feel like I'm just making things worse. Hiding out and keeping secrets…" He took Vash's wrist in his hand, feeling the bulk of bandages beneath the sleeve. "Vash, I've been afraid of losing my life before. I've been hurt by other people, and I've seen people get hurt. But I've never felt as scared as I do right now."

He gazed pleadingly into Vash's eyes, seeking some hint or clue as to what he should do, how he could stop this unnamed force from shredding them both to pieces. Yet he knew that Vash had no more answers than he did. They only had each other, so that's what they held onto.

Outside their window the night grew darker, colder. Wolf was already running late for class. He nestled his head under Vash's chin, burying himself in the familiar smell of Vash's jacket. But he couldn't afford to ignore reality any longer.

"I have to go." Wolf stepped back, and Vash hung onto his hands. "Believe me, I don't want to. There's a paper due tomorrow and—_shit._" Wolf pounded a fist against his forehead. "Ethics midterm. Damn it, I forgot." He sighed. "Guess I'm not getting any sleep tonight."

Vash wrinkled his eyebrows sympathetically. "What's your paper on?" he asked.

"God, I don't even remember. The history of religious warfare or something." He uncovered his textbook from a pile of laundry and shoved it into his satchel. Vash picked up one of the grocery bags and held it out to him.

"Take a granola bar." Vash gave him a sloping smile, and Wolf's nerves settled down a bit.

"Thanks. I'll be back soon."

He started for the door, changed his mind, spun around and kissed Vash on the mouth. Then he hurried down the hall before Vash could see what color his face had turned.

* * *

><p>Class dragged on later than usual. As the professor turned out the lights for a slideshow presentation, Wolf caught himself nodding off at his desk. He scribbled notes to stay awake, yawning constantly, and when the lecture finally ended, Wolf had given up on the idea of studying or writing his paper that night. He'd set his alarm early and try to squeeze everything in the next morning, before work.<p>

_Like that will happen,_ he thought as he reached the door to his room, turning the key in the lock.

What he found behind the door made him wonder if he'd stepped into the wrong room. The piles of laundry and scattered books had disappeared. In the warm pool of light cast by the lamp on the nightstand, Wolf could see Neko curled up contentedly beside the heater. Vash was lying on his stomach in bed, watching a movie on his laptop. He'd changed into his pajamas, his hair wet from the shower. He smiled at Wolf and took one earphone out. "How was class?"

"I—you—it was, uh—" Wolf stared at him. "What happened in here?"

Vash shrugged mysteriously, putting his earphone back in. As Wolf removed his satchel, he noticed a neat stack of papers on the desk, printed and stapled. He read the title on the first page. _Holy Wars: Crusades and Conquests Throughout the Ages. A Study by Nicholas Wolfwood._

It would have been a perfect title for his research essay, except for the fact that he hadn't written it yet. He flipped through the pages, fifteen total, double-spaced, footnotes and citations—"Vash? What the hell _is_ all this?"

Vash stretched lazily. "It's the paper you wrote for tomorrow. I changed the title, though. Because, no offense, but 'The History of Religious Warfare or Something' really sucked."

"But," Wolf spluttered, "but that's plagiarism! That's cheating! I can't turn this in!"

"Whose name is on the cover?"

Unable to stand, Wolf sank into the chair beside the desk. "Vash…"

"I typed up a study guide for your midterm, too. Look it over before the test, and you should be gold."

Wolf leafed through the second set of pages, overwhelmed. "When did you…_how_ did you…"

Vash closed his laptop and sat up. "Wolf, I don't know if I'd be alive if you hadn't been with me these past few weeks. It's really the least I could do." He smiled shyly. "Besides, now you can get all the sleep you want tonight."

Wolf didn't know what to say. His face registered equal parts disbelief, liberation, affection. Then he smiled back.

"I don't think I'm going to sleep for a while yet," he said. And he hurtled into Vash with a kiss so deep that they both fell into the sheets, tangled and laughing, feeling like themselves again.


	9. Truth

_Three weeks after Nigh disappeared, they found me. Hiding in an abandoned train car in some strange city, starved and clinging to life by a thread. I pulled the gun on them. Cornered like an animal, prepared for the worst. They spoke to me in calming voices. Said they could be trusted. But it wasn't until they said her name that I dropped the gun and fell to my knees, too weak to crawl forward._

_ "We've been looking for you for a very long time," they said. "Where is your brother?"_

_ As I stared at their faces, tears emerged from my eyes and spilled down, unending._

_ "He said he'd come back."_

* * *

><p>Vash awoke with Wolf in his arms. The pale light of dawn fringed his outline with a hazy glow, interrupted only by the steady movement of his breathing. Neko had curled up on the bed during the night, a warm ball of fluff against their feet. Vash leaned forward imperceptibly and brushed his lips over the nape of Wolf's neck. Inhaled the burnt coffee smell of his hair. <em>Memorize this feeling,<em> Vash thought. _Never let go._

He raised his head, just enough to see Wolf's face. Eyes sealed under black lashes, a strand of hair caught between parted lips, the faint suggestion of a beard. It was so rare that Vash caught Wolf in a moment like this, oblivious and vulnerable, finally at rest. He didn't want the moment to end. But then Wolf stirred and his eyes slit open and Vash remembered why he'd woken up in the first place.

That smile.

"You've got a spiky head again," Wolf said, his voice ragged with sleep. He ran a lazy hand over Vash's hair, flopping his bangs into his eyes. Vash grinned.

Wolf reached over the side of the bed to retrieve his phone. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the screen. "Hell, it's only six A.M." He turned back to Vash, propping himself up on one elbow. "Two hours until work. What do you want to do?"

Vash peered out the window at the sharpening sunlight. "Go for a run?"

Wolf shook his head, burrowing into the covers. "Too cold." He paused. "How about the gym instead?"

Vash nodded.

"Okay. Five more minutes," Wolf murmured, his eyes closing. The black cat, disturbed by their movement, stretched its limbs and yawned, then climbed onto Wolf's chest and settled down for another nap. Vash watched them both doze off as easily as they'd woken. He smoothed Neko's fur with a tentative hand. The cat's tail flicked, but to Vash's surprise, it didn't swat him away. He lay there beside them, petting Neko and watching Wolf's chest rise and fall, until his mind wandered somewhere else. Somewhere sweet and sad and just out of reach, under a sky so blue that it almost hurt to look up. Somewhere faraway, yet not so long ago…

Vash jolted alert. Time was slipping away from him again. Panic rose in his throat as he tried to remember how many minutes he'd been lying there, tried to drag himself back to reality, back to their room. Back to Wolf.

He shook Wolf's shoulder gently, afraid for some reason that the dark eyes wouldn't open, that he'd be trapped there alone.

"Dammit, Spiky. I said five minutes, not five seconds."

The relief flooded in so quickly that Vash laughed. And nearly cried. He found Wolf's hand with his own and held on tight.

Neko began to knead the covers with sharp claws, and Wolf groaned. "Okay, okay. I'm awake. Let's go." He nudged the cat off the bed as he sat up, and his drowsy eyes slid over to Vash. "But coffee first."

Something about this morning felt different from all the days preceding it, though nothing was out of the ordinary. To Vash, even the most mundane activities seemed imbued with meaning. Changing into a new shirt, tying his shoes. Fighting for elbow room with Wolf while they brushed their teeth. Knotting their hands together as they walked down the empty hall, casual as could be.

Meryl looked up from her cup of tea as they passed through the atrium, her sleep-heavy eyes brightening. "You're alive!" she said to Vash. "I was beginning to wonder."

Vash vaulted over the desk and scooped Meryl out of her chair, taking her by surprise. She yelped as he spun her around in a bear hug, laughing.

"Put me down!" Meryl shrieked. But Vash's laughter was contagious, and she couldn't help snorting when she finally reached the ground again, shaking her head and smoothing her shirt. "You and Millie, honestly. Just because I'm short, that doesn't mean I'm your pet puppy."

"He does the same thing to me," Wolf said. "You can punch him in the face if you want, but I don't think he'll learn."

Vash smiled imperviously. "Pass that hug along to Millie," he told Meryl. "I'd be failing art if it wasn't for her."

"Why don't you thank her in person?" Meryl said. "Study group at our place tonight. And both of you had better be there."

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Vash agreed before Wolf could form a reply of his own. He knew Wolf would have said yes, anyway. While Vash had been holed up in their room through most of October, Wolf had pleaded with him to get out and visit their friends again. He squeezed Wolf's hand as they left Chapel Hall and headed for the library coffee shop. How was it that he always felt so indebted toward this quiet companion of his? No matter what Vash did to try to make up for the pain he'd caused, Wolf stepped in at the worst of times to overwhelm him with another show of kindness that he could never repay. Not that Wolf would ever ask for anything in return. And that was what made it all the more difficult.

There on the sidewalk in the middle of campus, Vash put his arms around Wolf's shoulders and pulled him close. When he let go, Wolf laughed nervously and scratched his head, blushing. "What was that for?"

Vash shrugged, feeling the heat rise in his own face. "Nothing. Just for…you."

A disarming smile. "Then, this—" Wolf glanced around before he stood on his toes and kissed Vash on the corner of his mouth. "—is for you."

* * *

><p>To be honest, Vash hated going to the gym. Running on a treadmill with no change of scenery felt pointless, and he could never figure out how to work the weight machines without breaking them. Wolf had his earphones in, pedaling nowhere on a stationary bike. The rest of the gym was empty. With no one to talk to and nothing to do, Vash wandered the building, exploring the various rooms. A dance studio lined with mirrors, a racquetball court, a swimming pool drained and closed for maintenance. He stopped in a room full of punching bags. The light was switched off, and rows of shadowy hulks hung from the ceiling like slabs in a meat locker. Vash didn't like the feeling the room gave him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. There was something chillingly familiar about it.<p>

He took a step into the room. A sharp smell of antiseptic, formaldehyde—but that wasn't here, was it? _No,_ Vash thought as his shoulder brushed one of the things hanging from the ceiling, and a shiver ran through him. _I'm somewhere else._

Somewhere white and clean and frightening, somewhere just at the edge of his memory. He lifted his left hand and saw a gun, loaded and primed, shaking in his grip. The man? The park in the city? No. This was a different place. A hospital, maybe. Like the doctor's office from when they were little. Nigh was there, too, but he was older. They weren't kids anymore.

_"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do for him."_

Wait—that voice. Wasn't that…

Vash stared down the sight into Dr. Conrad's eyes. Saw the bullet fly. Heard his own voice screaming. Then a piercing noise ringing in his ears. Light so bright he couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

Was he still screaming?

"Vash!" Hands on his arms, wrenching them backward. He struck out with his elbow and hit something, loosening the grip and exacting a sound of pain. "Vash, for God's sake it's me! It's me."

Two dark eyes came into focus, wide and rimmed with tears. Wolf. A red welt forming on his face where Vash had hit him. They were sitting on the floor of the room in the gym, the light turned on. "Wolf…? What happened?" Vash asked.

Wolf gaped at him. "What—_what happened? _I hear you screaming and run down the hall to find you in the goddamn dark, whaling on a goddamn punching bag until your goddamn _hand_ busts open, and you want _me _to tell you what happened?" He ran a trembling hand over his sweaty face, wincing when he touched the bruise. Then he reached for Vash's shoulder. "Shit, Vash. I'm really—"

"Stay away!" Vash tried to scrabble out of Wolf's reach, but his hand slipped and he fell backward, pain shooting through his wrist. He crawled to the corner of the room and huddled against the wall, and that's when he noticed the blood. Smears of it on the floor where he'd slipped. Dark red blotches on the surface of a punching bag, still rocking on its chain. He looked down at his left arm and saw the mangled hand, the skin torn open and dripping. Dull fire raging in his veins.

"Stay away from me," Vash repeated, quieter this time. "Don't let me hurt you again. I don't want you to get hurt."

He couldn't bear to look at Wolf's face, afraid of what he'd find there. The silence gnawed at his insides. At last, Wolf sighed and stood up. "You're one to talk," he muttered. And he came over to Vash and kneeled beside him, inspecting the injured hand. "We should get you to a doctor. You might have broken something."

"No." Vash shook his head. "I'm fine. I can deal with it."

Wolf pressed one finger to the open wound on Vash's knuckles, and he shrieked.

"Don't let me hurt you again," Wolf quipped with a deadpan expression. "Come on, we're going to the clinic."

* * *

><p>The waiting room of the health services building was already decorated for Christmas, despite the fact that several weeks were left before Thanksgiving. The receptionist had given Vash a clipboard full of paperwork to fill out, and he sat puzzling over the forms while Wolf peeled a makeshift bandage of paper towels away from Vash's left hand.<p>

"Still bleeding," Wolf said. "Not so much, though."

Vash tapped the pencil on the clipboard repeatedly with his free hand. "I don't know the answers to all these questions. Do you think it matters?"

Wolf leaned over and peered at the forms. His eyebrows shot up. "Your social security number? _Your last name?_ Yeah, I'm pretty sure those things matter."

He laughed, but Vash's face was serious. "I don't know them."

"Very funny." Wolf narrowed his eyes, though he couldn't mask the uneasiness in his voice. "Quit goofing around, Spiky. You're not getting out of this—"

"Excuse me," a nurse interrupted them. "Are you Vash?"

Vash set the clipboard down and stood up politely, nodding.

"Professor Luida informed me about you. I'm terribly sorry for the confusion. She's on her way now."

"Thank you," Vash said quietly. He wasn't looking forward to being chewed out by the professor, but at least that took care of the paperwork issue. He could feel Wolf's eyes studying him, trying to figure him out.

"Whenever you're ready," the nurse said. "You can leave the clipboard at the desk."

Vash turned to pick up the uncompleted forms, then paused. The first three digits of the social security number had been filled in. Only seconds ago, they'd been blank. "Did you write these numbers?" he asked Wolf.

"I haven't touched it," Wolf answered.

The memory of that day on the church playground swept over Vash with full force. The crossword, the little girl, the stranger's voice in his head. He glanced around the waiting room, but no one else was there. He looked down at the numbers again. _853._

"Can I keep this page?" he asked the receptionist at the desk. Receiving a nonchalant shrug in reply, he folded the paper and wedged it in his pocket.

"Right this way," the nurse said, gesturing to an open door. Wolf followed close behind Vash, and the nurse guided them down a hallway to a small examination room. "Luida will be here shortly."

Vash sat down on the edge of a table covered in crinkly paper. The door closed, and they were alone.

Wolf folded his arms. "You wanna tell me what _that_ was all about?"

The question hardly reached Vash's ears. His mind was a barricade, a last stand against the memories that threatened to burst inside. Dr. Conrad, Nigh, the empty boxes, the numbers. Why only three? What did it mean?

"It's complicated," Vash said finally.

"No kidding." Wolf paced the room, shaking his head. "And you're not kidding, either. That's what's so hard to believe. How'd you manage to get into college if you don't even know your own name?"

Vash shrugged. "Luida helps me with that stuff."

Wolf stopped to look him straight in the eye. "There's another thing. Just who is this Luida person, anyway? You never mentioned her before."

As if on cue, the door handle turned and the professor stepped inside. Vash risked a timid smile, trying to hide his injured hand behind his back. Luida wore her usual solemn frown, unfazed by Vash's attempt at innocence. "What have you done now?" she asked.

"Nothing!" Vash laughed, much too loudly. "I tripped and fell on the sidewalk and Wolf here made a big deal out of it, so…"

The professor's sharp gaze flicked over to Wolf, who stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. They exchanged brief, distrustful nods.

"Thank you for looking after him, young man. I hope this fool hasn't caused you any trouble. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to speak with Vash alone—"

"No, wait." Vash reached for Wolf's arm. "It's all right, Luida. I want him to stay."

A single crease of concern betrayed itself on Luida's forehead. "Are you sure about this?"

Wolf sat down next to Vash, protectively. "He can be trusted," Vash said.

The professor stared at Wolf, and Wolf stared back. Neither of them seemed at ease with the other. "Well," Luida said after an uncomfortable pause, "it's your call."

She directed him to the sink and told him to rinse his hand while she put on gloves and prepared an alcohol swab. Vash flinched when she pushed up his sleeve.

"This again." Vash thought he detected disappointment in her voice, though she didn't sound surprised. "When did it start?"

Vash ducked his head. "I don't know," he mumbled. "A while ago. I don't remember…"

From behind them, Wolf spoke up. "He's been hurting himself since the first day of school. Maybe before that."

Luida acknowledged this with a tilt of her chin. Vash met her eyes guiltily.

"You know what I'm going to say." She turned off the faucet, lifted his hand and swabbed the wounds. The sting from the alcohol made him wince. "Frankly, I don't see the point in repeating myself anymore. When I ask you to report everything to us, I mean everything. Accidental or not. You know your condition. You know what's at risk."

She filled a cup with water and handed it to him. "Drink this and sit down, you need to rehydrate. Go ahead and cover it up again. They can use your other arm for the IV."

Vash tugged his sleeve down obediently. The professor called in a nurse to handle the IV and take an X-ray while she filled a syringe with a vial from her small black bag. Wolf watched as she injected Vash, the worry on his face growing deeper by the second. _It's okay,_ Vash mouthed to him.

"Have you noticed any changes in your sleep patterns?" Luida asked. "Any abnormalities?"

Vash shook his head, but Wolf said, "He has nightmares. Almost every night. Is that normal?"

A trace of amusement crossed Luida's features, and Vash shot an angry glare at Wolf. "I'm glad _someone_ here is being honest," Luida said. "You'd better hang onto this friend of yours, Vash. He seems to know you better than you know yourself."

"He doesn't realize where he is sometimes," Wolf went on, "or what he's doing. I think that's why he has trouble remembering things."

"That's not good." The professor unpacked a memo pad from her bag and jotted down a note. "Has your memory improved at all over the past several months?" Luida redirected her attention to Vash. "Have you remembered anything about July?"

The word triggered a flash of recognition in Vash's mind. July. Where last year a fire had swallowed the entire clinical research wing of the university, leaving no trace behind. Where Vash had emerged unscathed, with no recollection of how he'd survived or what he had been doing there.

Where Dr. Conrad was last seen before he disappeared, presumed dead in the fire.

_Oh, God. Oh, no._

The white room. The gun in his hand.

Vash swallowed back the sickening taste in his throat. Shook his head once, twice, three times. "No," he said. "Nothing yet."

"If there's anything at all, I need to know. Even the smallest piece of evidence could help us find out what happened."

He summoned every ounce of composure to look her squarely in the eye. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew."

The professor closed her notebook and sighed, taking off her glasses to rub her temples. "We suffered a tremendous loss in Dr. Conrad. But we will continue his work as long as we can." She repositioned her glasses and cleared her throat. "There's a new drug that the research team has been perfecting. It's almost ready to go to trial. However, I'm afraid that the side effects could be worse. And I'm not sure if that's a risk I'm willing to take."

Vash thought this over. Then he raised his head. "I want to try. If it works, I might be able to give it to Nigh."

Luida frowned. "Vash, it's a tremendous gamble. From what little information we've received about Nigh, we know he's managed to slow the deterioration process somehow. Your condition is much more advanced."

"Then what have I got to lose?" He gave her a sidelong smile. "Besides, no one else can test it, can they? Unless you think you can persuade Nigh yourself."

After a moment of hesitation, the professor relented. "All right. The decision is yours to make. But I insist that you keep us informed about your wellbeing, this time. If you don't, I'm sure I can rely on Wolf to step in."

She held out a hand to Wolf, and he shook it somberly. "The nurse will take care of you from here," Luida said. "Tell them to send the bill to my office."

The door opened and closed and she was gone. Wolf sat in silence, avoiding Vash's eyes. When the nurse returned with the X-ray results, they learned that Vash had fractured his hand and broken two fingers. He was fixed up with braces and splints and given antibiotics and pain medicine to take once a day, which Wolf said he would hold onto. They were on their way out of the clinic when Vash realized it was almost noon.

"I can get back to the dorm by myself," he said to Wolf as they walked down the sidewalk toward Chapel Hall. "Don't you have to be at work?"

Wolf didn't answer, only shook his head. Vash could tell he was holding everything inside, trying not to break, and the anticipation of what was to come made Vash want to turn and run.

When they reached Room 206, Wolf put his face in his hands and took a long, shuddering breath. His voice came out muffled and wet. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick."

Vash stood unmoving in the center of the room, arms hanging uselessly at his sides. He wished he could disappear.

"Why," Wolf repeated.

"Because. I…" _Because I didn't want to hurt you. Because I didn't want to think about it. Because I don't want to have to say goodbye. _"I wasn't sure that I could trust you."

"_Trust_ me?" Wolf removed his hands from his face, one eye red and swollen on the side that Vash had bruised. "I could have been making you worse! And you wouldn't have told me anything. What the hell is going on, Vash? Why did she say—what did she mean, about a condition? And you, talking like—like you're going to die or something—"

"I am going to die."

Wolf went rigid. Then he barked, "Oh, _ha ha_, very clever, smartass, 'cause everyone's gonna die, right? Don't mock me right now, you know what I meant—"

"I'm not mocking you." Every word, a knife twisting in his ribcage. "I know what you meant, and you were right. Wolf, I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner."

"What…" The anger and sarcasm in Wolf's voice had been replaced with a weak rasp of shock. "What are you t—talking…about…"

"Luida and the others—the people who take care of me—they think I probably won't live past twenty-five." Vash spoke as gently as he could. "To be honest, I shouldn't have made it this far in the first place. The way that I am…my cells don't heal the way they're supposed to. The older I get, the longer it takes."

Vash sat on the edge of the bed and Wolf sank down next to him, absorbing the truth slowly. "Is that what the drugs are for?" he asked.

"Sort of. Mostly they help my immune system. It's not a cure or anything. They give me weird dreams and stuff, but it's not so bad."

Wolf slouched forward and buried his head in his arms. Vash pulled at his sleeve. "Hey, don't cry…"

"_I'm not. Fucking. Crying._" He peered up at Vash with tears running down to his chin. "Why would I cry over an—an idiot—like—"

Vash curled his arms around Wolf and held him tight against his chest.

"I hate your goddamn guts," Wolf said, clinging to Vash's shirt. "You know that?"

The sunlight from the window inched its way across the floor and up the wall. Vash's gaze fell on the white cross over the bed, silent and symbolic as ever, though its meaning was a mystery. Did Wolf know? Had some celestial secret been locked inside, that if they whispered the right magical words in the right magical combination, it might reveal itself to them? Vash looked down at his truest friend, the sad, scared boy who'd nearly cried himself to sleep on his lap, and ran his fingers through his hair. If there was any cross on Wolf's back, Vash thought, it was his doing. Maybe he shouldn't have let Wolf stay in the room when Professor Luida showed up. Maybe he should have kept the truth hidden away.

Maybe there was no good way to deal with this kind of pain.

* * *

><p>Wolf didn't want to go to class that night, but with midterms hanging over his head, he couldn't avoid it. Before he left, he made sure that Vash took his pain medicine, then demanded that Vash send him a text message every thirty minutes with a report on how he was feeling.<p>

"I'll be fine," Vash laughed. "It's only a few hours."

"A lot can happen in a few hours." Wolf furrowed his brow. "I really don't think I should leave you alone."

Vash picked up Wolf's satchel and shoved it into his arms. "Go to class. I didn't write you a fifteen-page paper so you could flunk out of college, you slacker."

Wolf gritted his teeth as he strapped the bag over his shoulder. "Every thirty minutes. Don't forget."

"I won't." Vash pushed him out the door, almost slamming it on his fingers as Wolf turned to remind him to eat something so the medicine wouldn't make him sick. When he finally disappeared down the hallway, Vash shut the door and dug around in one of the grocery bags Wolf had brought home the night before. He found an apple and took a bite, then picked up his phone to type a message. _I am eating an apple and I feel awesome. :)_ He shot a photo of himself with an exaggerated thumbs-up and sent it to Wolf.

A moment later, he received a reply. _That's more like it._

Vash sat down at the desk and took the crumpled medical form out of his pocket. Now that he was alone, he had a chance to think about those numbers and what they meant. He switched on the lamp and unearthed the crossword puzzle from its hiding place in the desk drawer.

_Puppets. 853. _The only clues he'd been given to decipher Nigh's message.

"Empty boxes," Vash muttered. The form for the social security number had nine boxes, with three filled in. That left six.

Was it a sequence? Subtract three, subtract two…If he continued the pattern, he would subtract one, then zero, then add one, add two, add three…

No. The last number in the sequence would fill two spaces, and there was only one left. That wasn't the answer.

He directed his attention to the blank spaces in the crossword. Letters seemed more cryptic than numbers, unless…did they correspond to one another, somehow? Several attempts to translate the numbers into a meaningful set of letters left Vash with nothing but a page full of scribbles. He ran them forward and backward, rearranged the digits to no avail. Then he ripped out the page from his notebook and decided to try a new approach.

What did he know? What had he learned? He stared at his broken hand and wrote down the word _July. _Then, _Dr. Conrad. Nigh._

After a moment of thought, he erased Nigh's name and wrote _Knives_ instead. Nigh wouldn't have used his old name.

He began to insert the words into the puzzle, starting with the _U_ in _Puppets_ for _July._ He added his own name along with _Conrad_ and _Knives, _and then he stopped writing.

_Eight, five, three._ _Eight fifty-three._ It wasn't a social security number. It wasn't a sequence.

_"Time of death, eight fifty-three A.M…_"

It was a date.

Vash closed his eyes and saw the operating table, surrounded by tubes and machinery. Saw her eyes staring emptily at the ceiling.

Six empty boxes. One for the day, one for the month, four for the year.

_Eight fifty-three. The sixth of July. Two years before we were born._

He filled in the numbers, a perfect fit. His hand hovered over the crossword before he added a name: _Tesla._

A buzzing noise made Vash jump so badly that he banged his elbow against the desk. His phone screen lit up with a message from Wolf that read, _Report!_

It took a minute for his nerves to settle. Vash typed back, _Still awesome. Still apple,_ and set the phone aside.

Looking at the puzzle with fresh eyes, he thought of a possibility he hadn't yet considered. There were numbers in the crossword, too—written in small type at the corners of certain boxes, to indicate where a new word began. Five across, seven down, and so on. Since the original printed clues had been torn out, Vash hadn't paid much attention to the words' corresponding numbers. Now it seemed obvious that they were a part of the message, too.

He wrote out the digits from the medical form—the date of Tesla's death—and circled the matching numbers in the crossword. To each number, a letter. _S-H-E-_

There was no number six in the puzzle, so he left a space.

_L-I-V-E-S._

Vash stared at the message, the unmistakable words. His breath caught in his throat.

_She lives._


End file.
